


Prisoner of Peace Part 2 - Let's Go There

by Mooncatx



Series: Prisoner - Amelie LaCroix [3]
Category: overwatch
Genre: Consensual Non-Consent, Consent Issues, Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-21 11:36:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 25
Words: 40,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14284077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mooncatx/pseuds/Mooncatx
Summary: So, I'm going there.  I'm calling it.  This IS the next part of Prisoner of Peace the main story line.  Really, I'm horrible at splitting my attention.  So, things may go really dark and smutty now.  If that's not your thing, enjoy the first two parts of the Prisoner series which are relatively clean.  So yeah, this part starts off with a bit of dark smut between Amelie = Widowmaker / Jack Morrison - Soldier 76  And yeah, there is going to be non-con elements.  This is my jumping point, people.  Think about it.  If this is not your thing, turn back now.





	1. How Far Will You Go?

**Author's Note:**

> So I made some changes. Please check out the Summary. This is now the Prisoner of Peace part 2 storyline. I gave you all a chance to comment and no one did, so let's see how it all goes. If this turns into Amelie does Overwatch, it's all your own fault for not stopping me when you had the chance. <\-- I totally went there! =^,,^=

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This continues Prisoner of Peace (part 1) so consider it either chapter 1 of Part 2 or chapter 8 of the whole bit. I may rename this part but I just can't think of a better name for it. -- this is where it gets weird. Okay? So the first 2 parts are fairly straight with the canon-verse. This is where I jump the shark :) Jack Morrison, aka Soldier 76 is not happy with Amelie LaCroix. He flat out thinks she's bad news and is using her sexuality to seduce Overwatch idiots (Jesse McCree for one) into her web of intrigue and Talon badness. Yes he does have a stick up his... ahem. But he also has a hard on type hard on for Amelie. You savvy? Where do you think this is headed? Yeah... got it in one. I'm a bad kitty. =^,,^= sweet dreams are made of these. It only gets worse and more smutty from here. Flee! Flee while you still can! Unless you like this kind of stuff. Then by all means, dig in.

Prisoner of Peace

Prisoner of Peace (part 2 chapter 1)

Chapter 1: **How Far Will You Go?**

 

The rest of lunch passed uneventfully.  Tracer did send doleful, kicked puppy looks towards Amelie.  Meanwhile, the former Talon sniper finished eating with a singular sense of satisfaction.  Angela chided her for taunting the time traveling chipmunk. But, really?! The foollish, annoying girl made it just too easy.  

McCree watched Amelie nibble delicately at her fruit.  Every so often she’d dip a bite into the remains of frosting on the desert plate, licking it off with the lavender toned pink tip of her tongue.  Small, licks, while the hedonistic pleasure of it rippled through her delightfully. Tracer’s anguish only made it better. It didn’t hurt that she could see heat build in the cowboy’s eyes, and that Angela sometimes forgot to chew while watching her devour each bite as if it were a sensual ritual.  

In truth, Amelie rarely had time to simply savor what she ate.  Talon bases were not known for haute cuisine, and when she had time on her own, Widowmaker didn’t often dally over food in commercial eating establishments.  Aside from her distinctive coloration, she hated being hit on by the few ignorant, or just drunk individuals who saw a pretty blue girl as another mark to notch on the bedpost.  At least in the Talon bases, the rank and file knew better than to press their luck, as her lovers tended to end up on the wrong side of a fatal attraction.

There was amusement in the older German giant eyes.  He watched McCree watching Amelie, and thought to himself… Ah!  So that is the way of it. He was not altogether won over by the Talon wench.  His automatic urge to kill the assassin on sight was blunted now by the knowledge that Talon had done things to Amelie LaCroix, that mitigated for him, her murder of Gerard LaCroix.  None of Overwatch’s hands were so clean that they could condemn her for murder out of hand, not if she were to truly put Talon aside. But that aside, she **_had_ ** murdered his friend and brother warrior.  So he and Brigitte would keep an eye on Amelie LaCroix.  Support her in becoming Overwatch if that was her goal. But neither he or his goddaughter would hesitate to put her down, if she proved false.

“Sugar cube, the way you eat is downright dangerous.” McCree commented, as the woman finished her food.

“Why is that?” Brigitte asked innocently, face as open as a spring wildflower, but devil’s mischief in her wide aqua eyes.

McCree coughed roughly into his hand as Reinhardt scowled at him, daring him to say something inappropriate in front of his goddaughter.  

“A discussion for another time.  We need to go to our Debrief Meeting now.” Angela cut in, rising from the table.  

 They all left together, and Amelie noted that the eyes following them out, took into account that she was part of this group of respected Overwatch veterens, and not unchampioned.  Good. It was useful to not be seen as someone easily hunted. Even predators such as wolves and lions had their support. She was not alone here. She would be careful not to be alone till she’d established a reputation that would keep other predators at bay.  At least, that was her plan, which as many plans go, run asunder on bureaucratic reefs. Amelie wasn’t surprised to be separated from the others for the debrief. As Widowmaker, she **_had_ ** been on the opposing team during the conflict.  What did surprise her was Jack Morrison, waiting for  her in the debrief room. Abruptly, her feeling of contentment vanished.

 “Jack.” her acknowledgement was neutral.

 “LaCroix.” Morrison was going for business casual, it seemed.  

 He gestured her to sit, and took the chair opposite of her across the simple table that was the only other furniture in the room.  It only lacked the one way mirror wall to be an interrogation room. It was a windowless, interior room and she and Jack were alone in it.

 She’d not been alone with Jack Morrison ever before.  Always there had been Gerard, or some crowd of people at whatever social event they were both attending.  It was strangely intimate, and dangerous for them both. He was looking at her now, the weight of his gaze was damning, containing a smouldering heat that had not been there earlier.  What had happened in only a few hours that he should look at her so… Oh…

Now she remembered that Angela had said he was one of the persons who had seen her and Jesse McCree _together_ only a little while ago.  Was **_this_ ** about **_that_ **?

 Amelie was never one to mince with words, and she had a begetting curiosity that was bound to get her into trouble, one way or another.

“Doctor Ziegler informed me that you saw the security footage of the practice range.”

 Jack stilled for a moment, his face held an expression that she wasn’t able to read, yet it sent chills through her.  He was upset with her. No… more than that, something had hardened him against her in a way that set off her danger sense.  The urge to flee raced through her, but it was too late. She could only go forward now, not back.

 “You will do anything, won’t you.” Jack’s voice had a whiskey rasp, and she wondered if he’d had a shot of liquid courage before cutting her from the herd, trapping her alone with him.  

 “You’ll have to be more specific, Commander Morrison.  If you mean will I obey orders, I don’t really have a problem with that.  Talon saw to it that I play well with others.” Amelie kept her voice low, non-aggressive.  Somehow though, her attempt at a calm seemed only to fan the cold fury in Morrison’s icy blue eyes.

 “Here I thought you were a one trick pony.  Talon’s pet sniper. But they taught you a whole repertoire of tricks, didn’t they?” He leaned over the table, intimidation poured off him and Amelie pulled back in confusion.  

 “Talon trained me in many levels of intelligence gathering, as well as assassination.” Amelie offered the information warily, sensing some kind of trap.

 “How far will you go, Amelie LaCroix?  To seal your place with Overwatch? To prove yourself to me that you will do as you are told, without question?” Jack demanded, voice harsh almost accusatory?

 “How far are you willing to push me?” Amelie tilted her head, trying to get the gist of what Jack was aiming for.

 “Right now you’re dressed like a whore, LaCroix.” Morrison pushed himself from the table, standing up, “Can you make good on the promise your looks are making?”

 “What are you asking me to do, Jack?” Amelie rose to her feet, resisting the urge to cross her arms in front of herself defensively.

 “Strip.”

 An arched brow was the only question Amelie allowed herself to make.  It seemed Overwatch was not that far from Talon practices after all. She only had the one garment.  She shrugged out of it in less time than it took to draw a breath. Jack, seemed surprised. He shouldn’t have been.  She was a professional. In Talon, if someone who ranked you told you to strip, you stripped. She stood there in nothing but her skin, black boots and blue black hair loose, black velvet and lace puddled behind the stiletto like heels.

 “Go to the wall.  Hands high, above your head, and wide apart.” Morrison ordered

 His roughly growled directives were easy enough to follow.  Amelie went to one of the bare walls and leaned forwards, hands flat against the wall.  She didn’t even wait for him to order her to spread her legs. The former Talon operative looked at the wall now before her eyes, the rough grain of it not disguised by the thin coat of paint.  She focused only on the paint and the wall, willing herself not to move, not to flinch, as Jack’s masculine, work hardened hands laid hot as fever against her cooler skin. They were large hands, able to cover her breasts with their heat.  Strong fingers plucked at the soft nubs that tipped her small, high, perfect breasts. Plucked, tormented and teased till the tender flesh grew stiff, jutting out in stiff peaks. His other hand dropped to the v between her cool, smooth thighs.

 Amelie couldn’t stop a small gasp from escaping, as Morrison’s fingers claimed her most private place.  Not so private after all. He touched her. And she let him. She closed her eyes, and turned her head, laying her cool blue cheek against the colder, harder surface.

 Jack hadn’t meant for it to go so far.  He had expected her to tell him to take a flying leap.  He expected her to protest. He expected her to fight back.  But she didn’t, and he couldn’t help touching her.  Exploring the supple smoothness of her skin, offered up like a sacrifice.  All he could think of now was how outraged he’d been to see Gerard’s wife acting like a cat in heat, writhing under Jesse McCree.  This woman trembling under his rough handling was little more than a whore, giving access to her body in order to infiltrate and gain access to the more naive and wide eye’d Overwatch members.  He wanted to punish her for dishonoring Gerard’s memory. He wanted to kiss her till it hurt.

 Roughly, he pressed himself to her back, letting her feel the hard muscle of him against the softness of her naked buttocks.  The roundness of her bare ass pressed lewdly against the hard erection he’d come into the room with. He watched her face over her shoulder, head turned and eyes closed, biting her lower lip as if to keep from crying.  Such a good little actress. You could almost feel her humiliation in the harshness of her breath. He reached out to stroke the long, loose strands of her dark hair away from her face.

 “Guide me in.” His voice was rough, with anger, with lust he couldn’t tell which held more sway over him.  

 Her hands left the wall, leaving only the pressure of her front body against the wall to keep her upright, while behind her she blindly sought out Jack’s hard flesh, releasing it from the confines of his trousers.  Her fingers were clever as they were cool, long and slender like the rest of her body. The body that she arched, lifting her derriere to offer him access to her from behind. Slowly, but without hesitation, she guided the tip of him into the valley between her butt cheeks, moving him to the soft delicate folds of her sex.  She was still moist from her time with Jesse, so she was nearly ready for his sudden, brutal thrust. Jack threw away any preliminaries and took her with an aggressive, dominating lunge. Not giving her even a moment to adjust to the size of him. He buried himself in her hard and fast. Amelie couldn’t help the whimper that was forced out of her.  

 “Jack!”

 Her breathing his name unleashed a violent spill of emotions.  He began to fuck her raw and hard enough to crush her against the wall.  The room echoed with the thuds of force as his thrusts came fast and furious.  It wasn’t sex. It was punishment. She wept. It was involuntary, she couldn’t control the tears forced from her with his relentless, furious fucking.

 He wanted her to suffer.  So she showed him her pain, her tears, let him hear the small, muffled screams, subdued and quieted only enough to keep outsiders from coming to investigate.  Jack’s violence culminated in an explosion of his seed, deep inside of her. He stilled against her, listening to her hiccuping sobs. His hands reached up, thumbs wiping the tears away until her sobbing stopped.  Almost gently he slid out of her. The warm trickle of his seed spilled out, coating the inner walls of her thighs. Taking his fingers, Jack wiped up a smear of his seed, and brought it up to her mouth. Slowly she kissed his fingers, licking them clean.  Golden eyes glistening, she looked to his weathered, calmer face.

 Jack swore under his breath.  He’d never taken a woman with such violence before.  He’d never come with such shockingly intense release.  He was already hard again, like a teenager first discovering sex.  This time he took her to the table, Wordless he lifted her so her hips were supported on the table’s edge, her arms rested on his shoulders, hands clasped behind  his neck. His hands looked incongruous against the soft smoothness of her shadow blue thighs. She watched him, as he stroked his hands over her soft, naked flesh.  His fingers stroked over her nether lips, spreading her open to his gaze, a slow seepage of his seed was a lewd reminder of his violent use of her only moments ago. He buried the fingers of one hand inside her, watching her eyes widen at the invasion.  His other hand slid up to grasp her neck, thumb along the line of her jaw, he tilted her head up.

 “Tell me to stop.” His voice was nearly a subaudible growl.

 “Stop, Jack.” she whispered, voice rough with tears and rasping from her earlier smothered screams, “... please, stop!”

 He watched her face.  Her trembling lower lip.  Leaning down he caught her tremble with the the still white perfection of his strong teeth.  A little wordless keen escaped her as he bit down almost gently. His lower hand began to fuck her slowly, his thumb rolling her now swollen clit.  He built up her tension till she was bow string tight.

 “Guide me in.” His curt order came in a whisper this time, his breath hot on her lips, before he took them with his.  

 A deep invasion of a kiss that left  her no room for air as she reached with one hand to cup his now fully erect flesh.  He growled in her mouth as her hand ran the length of his cock from beneath, before firmly grasping his base and pull him forward, his solid maleness to her moist tightness.  She jerked a little as his hard cock pressed into her once again. She was still sore from how violently he had taken her only moments ago.

 His kiss released her, and she let out a pained moan as Jack bucked his hips to lodge firm and deep into her again. She felt tight, stretched beyond her limit by the size of  him. Slowly he moved in and out of her. Long, deep, slow strokes. He watched her weep as he fucked her. He watched her weep just for him. He could feel the tremble of her coming release, and increased the force and speed, the power of his motions ramming the table into the floor in a steady jarring set of strikes.  Her angle was perfect, and he buried himself into her, right to the hilt. Her gasping scream was like a signal. Rolling his hips, he took her in great, long strokes, almost pulling out completely, only to go balls deep the next.

“Jaaaaaack…” his name was a wail on her lips, as shuddering she came around him, convulsing in waves, milking him with her tight core.  Sobbing she came for him, mouth open, eyes staring into his.

Jack stayed inside her, using his strength to lift her and turn so he was braced,  hips on the table. He waited for her shudders to calm. He pulled himself fully on the table, Amelie astride, still impaled.

“Move for me.” Jack ordered.

Amelie bit her lip, and rocked, gently at first, but a sudden stinging slap on her bare buttocks caused her to significantly pick up the pace.  She huffed, breath dragged into lungs one moment, driven out the next as Jack’s hardness sank into her. So very hard and long, the girth of him splitting her apart.  She could feel her own climax coming again. So could Jack. His hands cupped her bottom, and he thrust up hard to meet her on every downward motion. The heavy weight of his body surged up, his super soldier enhancements coming to the fore.  

Amelie yelped as Jack rolled her on to her back on the table top and drove into her deeper and harder. All she could do was take it, his flesh violating hers in a primal act that left her howling, no longer able to think about being quiet as Jack hammered her forcefully in short rapid thrusts.  She couldn’t stop the sound caroling out of her throat, despair, triumph, a loss of self and a fulfillment of the same. Jack’s name on her lips she came, shaking, crying. Jack’s mouth on her throat, her cheeks, capturing her mouth and her wails. She continued to whimper, everything falling away as Jack rode her into oblivion.

... to be continued...


	2. Prisoner of Peace Part 2 Chapter 2: Let Loose Your Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Commander Jack Morrison has his brutal way with Amelie LaCroix, the after math. Angela has a theory about Amelie's kill switch. This is what would be chapter 9 if we do continue this as part of Prisoner of Peace

**Prisoner of Peace (part 2)**

**chapter 2: Let Loose Your Pain**

 

**Amelie LaCroix - Widowmaker**

 

“...could you have been thinking!?” Angela’s voice sounded far away, muffled, as if underwater.  The familiar cadence of her melodic Swiss accent was strangely comforting. Well, probably not so comforting to whomever she was berating.  Amelie could feel the residual tingle of a healing pack. She was going through a lot of them for not seeing actual combat in days.

“It just happened.” Jack Morrison’s voice was gravel and whiskey, and all kinds of rough.

Just the sound of it triggered memories.  Sweaty memories and the taste of his seed salty on her lips.  Licking those same lips, Amelie found them a bit parched, her whole mouth feeling dry.

“Water.” she managed.  Speech beginning to come back to her.

She was on an exam table.  Angela stood at the foot, Jack Morrison just beyond her.  

There was a familiar ache between her legs.  The healing pack had stripped away the soreness, what was left was a kind of aching **_need_ ** . 

“Kill switch?” she asked grimacing.  Angela came to give her what appeared to be a sippie cup.  Cradling the cup with both hands, Amelie let the cool, electrolyte rich liquid moisten her mouth, then swallowed slowly, letting it sooth her sore throat.  “Ahh… I needed that.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, resting her cheek against the cup, enjoying the smooth chill feel of it against her cheek.  

“Yes,” Angela’s voice had a curious acidness to it, “You managed to trip another trigger.  I now have a handful of instances with which to form a hypothesis. The first time you triggered was after you offered yourself to McCree.  THe second time, from both McCree’s report, and my own observations of your security footage, was after your actual sexual encounter in the the biotic gun practice range.  Jesse shot you with a healing ammo load afterward.”

“Mmm.. “ Amelie smiled, eyes still closed, savoring the reminder, “My **_pick me up_ **.  McCree is a thoughtful lover.”

There was a moment of silence from Angela, She looked at the dark haired woman on the exam table.  Amelie had the languid, half awake semblance of a cat drowsing in a sunbeam. Utterly relaxed, She was all but purring.  

“And now?” long, dark eyelashes opened lazily.  Amelie’s gaze lingered on the doctor’s face, seeming to focus on Angela’s mouth as if fascinated.  But moving on after a brief moment to look at the grim features of Jack Morrison. “Jack fucked me into next week, and I nearly died again?”

“... yes.” Doctor Zieger confirmed, giving Commander Morrison a hard look.

“My kill switch is sex?  That will certainly put the kiss of death on my physical social interactions.”  

“This is no laughing matter, Amelie!” Angela’s voice was unamused, “Sex, or maybe it’s just the conscious act of giving your… cooperation, to person or persons who are not part of Talon.  Working with others in a capacity not sanctioned by Talon.”

“Can you fix it?” Amelie’s voice was sleepy.  Angela wasn’t sure if the woman were truly awake after all.  But the hands around the cup had tensed, the knuckles were a paler shade of blue, nearly white as the former assassin waited for Angela’s prognosis.  

“I think so.  If your acquiescence is the trigger, then we will need to overwhelm it.  This is actually similar to disrupting a simple, psychosomatic response. Like breaking a hypnotic command.  Whoever conditioned you probably reinforced a trance suggestion state with a regimen of drug therapy. We’ll work on it.  If we can continuously induce your trigger in a controlled setting, making you aware of it, we can over time wear out you automated response with your conscious rejection of the given command.”

“So…  I need to sleep around?” Amelie laughed  “That is like the plot of a dozen bad porn holovids!”

“It could just be sex.  Or perhaps other significant acts of cooperation.” Angela surmised aloud, “Not just simple acts like making coffee for a friend, but designated actions like… “

“Killing on command?  Or in my case, sex or assassination?”  Amelie concluded for the doctor. “Yes, I can see that.  My primary function is to kill on command. For me the act of sexual love and killing are very closely wed.”

“I don’t want to be… indelicate.”  Angela’s voice was medical professional calm, but her face was once more flushed with her embarrassment, “But will you confirm for me that your… encounter, with Jack Morrison was… consensual?”

Angela could vividly remember her intense state of shock when she answered Jack’s urgent med call.  She’d only been a few doors away for her own debrief when her communicator all but shook out of her purse.  She’d raced over to a windowless room she was unfamiliar with, just in time to watch Jack stuffing himself back into his pants.  Amelie was naked except for her boots, laid out on the table, unconscious, the signs of recent sexual activity nearly neon sign obvious.  Angela immediately treated the passed out assassin with another healing pack. Angela had begun to stuff her pockets with them since Amelie had become part of her daily life.

“Mmm?” Amelie frowned, “Jack?  He just wanted me to demonstrate that I can follow orders.  It was a little intense, but I think I completed the objective.”

“The objective?!” Angela exclaimed.  From what she had witnessed, the objective had been to have Amelie’s brains fucked clean out of her head by Commander Morrison.

“The objective was to allow Commander Morrison to administer… physical discipline and corporal punishment in accordance with corrective conditioning.”  Amelie’s delivery was dryly factual, but her hand slid to the juncture between her thighs, protectively cupping her sex. She hummed a little, turning her head to look away before adding, “Yes.  Consensual.”

Jack had taken the moment to draw closer to the exam table, and Amelie.  He’s face was unreadable.

“I… hurt you.”  His comment was not an apology, but a statement of fact.

“You wanted to hurt me Jack.” Amelie gave him a half smile, tilting her head slightly, “And you did it… well.”

Angela froze.  She wasn’t sure what to make of what happened between Commander Morrison and Amelie, but she had a queasy feeling in her tummy that it was anything but simple, anything but sane.  She should not be here listening to the details. She couldn’t make herself move away.

“I don’t fake anything Jack.  Every tear, every scream, everything, I gave you was real.  It was a gift Jack. From me to you.” Amelie reached out her hand to touch his cheek.  “Gerard was someone we both loved. You needed… to let loose your pain. We both did.”

To be continued.

 


	3. Thresholds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Aftermath, Angela decides on her next step to treat Amelie. More Sombra and Reaper.

**Prisoner of Peace Part 2  
**

**chapter 3**

 

**Amélie LaCroix / Widowmaker**

 

Amélie could feel the disapproval radiate off of Angela like heat. She didn't understand about the _need_ for pain and violence. Not the way Amélie knew it. Not the way Jack was learning his own dark needs. Morrison had gotten a taste, which would whet his appetite for more. For a hunger such as this, there was no true saition, only momentary satisfaction, before the craving clawed at you again. Something in her took savage delight in the knowledge, even as she grieved for her one time friend. Her body all but hummed with happiness. She hadn't felt so… sexually gratified in years. Not since Moira.

 _Dieu._ She was pathetic. Wanting O'Deorain, even now? After all the mad doctor had done to her. Something that had slumbered since Moira had Amélie in her grasp was waking in the darkness of her soul. _Because_ of what Moira had done to her. No one could hurt her like Moira could, no one could make her love it more. But Jack… had a certain brutally raw charm. For a beginner, his instincts had been spot on. He'd savaged her with a natural talent that could not be learned. She'd need him again. Soon.

Amélie looked up into the grim soldier's gunmetal eyes that hadn't stopped their predator's stare at her for even a moment. She could feel him thinking about it. Her, at his mercy… and having none. Amélie felt her mouth go dry, and another part of her slick with growing need. She hoped he had access to a lot of healing packs. She was going to need them one way or the other.

 

**Angela Ziegler / Mercy**

 

Angela watched Amélie and Jack. She knew there was something… _**wrong.**_ There was a look in the Talon sniper's eyes. She'd seen it before, in addicts, when confronted with their drug of choice. And Jack, his face was like stone, but there was a sense of almost palpable darkness she couldn't understand. Angela wasn't going to let these two be alone together again, not on her life!

"Kill Switch!" Angela interjected, "Keep in mind that we are still in dangerous territory. Let us not do anything that could end up with Mrs LaCroix dead, shall we?"

Angela's sharp comment caught Jack's attention. Her not so subtle reminder that Amelie was his dead friends wife, which would remind him how she'd murdered Gerard. It was a bit dirty pool, but the Swiss medic had to snip this… whatever this was, in the bud. From Amélie expression, Angela expected to hear her hiss in annoyance. But instead the French woman smiled thinly, and asked, "Did you not say we should induce my switch in order to cure it?"

"First we should determine the parameters of what will or will not trigger your kill switch." Angela's voice was smooth and professional, "We must test, beginning with low stimuli, and work up, determine the least amount of action to trigger you, in a controlled environment. If possible, I'd like to see if we can accomplish a cure without you constantly being… "

For a moment Angela's words failed her… but not so Amélie.

 

**Amélie LaCroix / Widowmaker**

 

" _ **Baisée**_? Or should I say, **Fucked**?" Amélie's smile grew warmer as Angela went pink.  It was worth it, just to see her angel so flustered. She couldn't help but to push it just a bit farther.

"I don't mind, _mon ange_ , Jesse, or Jack could do me right here.  Or both together?  Just us, here.  With you watching." her voice dropped to a low, suggestive purr, dripping decadance, "I'd like that.  You looking into my eyes as I die a little death."

A strange gurgle escaped Angela's lips, and Jack Morrison reached over and roughly grasped Amélie by the shoulders, his grip painfully tight.

"Stop it!"  His growl was deep as a feral beast.

Amélie let out a little sound.  It wasn't protest.

"... Jack…" His name on her lips was whisper soft, and cut like the kiss of a blade.

He released her, as suddenly and violently as he'd grabbed her.  As if he'd been burned.

"We are both broken Jack.  But our jagged edges grind together nicely. _Assembler les pièces, non?"_

 

**Angela Ziegler / Mercy**

 

" _NEIN!"_ Angela almost exploded. She had watched, as Amélie's amorous attention had gone from her to Jack in less than the space of a heart beat. There was a dark heat that flared between them that was deeply disturbing.

"No one is fitting together right now!" the Overwatch Chief Medical Officer snapped, in full authority mode, "We will start tests tomorrow morning. Beginning with LOW levels of stimulation and orders. We'll establish thresholds before creating a therapy regime. Am I clear?!

She glared at them both, her ire high.

Both Amélie and Jack meekly nodded. They would humor the good doctor. For now.

 

**Olivia Colomar/Sombra**

 

Sombra was conflicted. She and Reaper were enroute to the Overwatch HQ, and she had spent her time doing what she did best, hacking security. And she'd hit another payload, this time a security feed from multiple camera angles for an interrogation slash debrief room. This wasn't even under an officer only seal. She had a feeling that wasn't going to last any longer than it took for old man Morrison to remember to cover his ass.  His very nice, tight, muscular ass. Which she could see in all it's glory as he fucked Widowmaker raw.  She winced a bit to see Amelie take it so… rough. La Araña had a taste for the hard stuff.

The latina hacker was no innocent.  You didn't get to her level of code breaking without getting exposed to the worst humanity had to offer. But… she'd just never seen someone she regularly hung out with in RL getting pounded the way Widowmaker was getting it. LaCroix was obviously following orders, but she was also crying, and screaming, and Sombra was sure her former team-mate was taking damage.  Damn… this was changing her view of Overwatch sooooo much.

It wasn't quite rape. La Araña was _letting_ her Commander do these things to her. The hard, brutal fucking that was not being faked for the cameras. It was very different than what Sombra had witnessed the Talon Sniper doing with McCree. Sombra would normally not hesitate to share captured sex video with friends and strangers. If you did it where it could be filmed, your bad. But… There was something deeply personal about _this_ that hadn't clicked for Sombra in the other feed. She wasn't sure she could share this with Reaper. He was funny about his old friend turned nemesis, Jack Morrison. Funny _loco_ not funny ha ha.

She widened the view holo, sound only in her internal jacks, and peeked at another replay. She just wasn't sure she could or should wank to this, and she'd wanked to some pretty weird stuff.  It was hot, but Sombra felt guilty watching it, for like, the sixth time? She was seeing her former team mate in a whole new way too.  La Araña looked so pretty when she cried.  The screams... made Sombra nervous.  It almost felt like she was doing something bad, and she _never_ was bothered by doing bad things.  NEVER.  Now she was feeling paranoid, a little chill ran up her spine, as if someone was watching _her_. Feeling twitchy she looked over her shoulder.

Right into Reaper's mask.

Sombra screamed! A high pitched squeal that made Reaper JUMP back in alarm!

"God! Sombra! What are you, 13?!  What the hell are you watching now?!"  Reaper felt his heart settle back in his chest.  What was wrong with the hacker that she nearly gave him a heart attack, when he'd just come by for updates. "More of Widowmaker getting fucked by McCree? That's a real invasion of privacy you know. If she returns with us you're gonna have to sleep with one eye open. She's always been touchy about personal things."

Sombra blushed and turned her head away, staring down. An actual cheek glowing blush. Reaper froze a moment, shocked a second time in as many seconds. He didn't think the shameless hacker _could_ blush. Then, while she was distracted, he glided forward a step and peered at the still running holo vid.

"Audio." he demanded. Sombra complied, cheeks still burning.

"...stop Jack… please… stop!" Widowmaker's whisper was rough with her pain, and her eyes simply glistened with tears. Her breath was a ragged as her naked body quivered at Morrison's touch. Reaper watched Jake kiss her into silence, and continue to take her.

Reaper watched all the way to when Angela burst into the room, eyes wide with shock while Jack stuffed his spent cock back into his pants after having emptied himself in the now limp and unconscious Amélie LaCroix.

"Replay from the start." His voice was dark and grim, and brooked no refusal.

Sombra played it from when Widowmaker came into the room where Jack waiting for her. She watched with Reyes as the Overwatch Commander, Jack Morrison, _ordered_ their former partner to strip. Watched her obey without hesitating. Watched everything that followed again.

"I didn't know this was an OverWatch vetting process." Sombra said, voice a bit faint, as Jack violently thrust into Widowmaker's completely vulnerable, naked body. She was sobbing openly as he violated her. It was harsh… yet… Neither of them could tear their eyes away. It was while the older, but magnificently muscled man was driving hard and relentlessly into a keening, climaxing Amélie that Sombra finally decided she could wank to this.  Just, on special occasions.

To be continued

 


	4. Reaper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper [this is a short piece, but I thought it deserved it's stand alone post]

**Prisoner of Peace Part 2:**

**Chapter 4  
**

An Overwatch Fan Fiction

By Mooncatx _The Bliss Crimson_

 

**Gabriel Reyes - Reaper**

Reaper steepled his gloved fingers and thought. The security feed Sombra had was damning all around. La Croix was unmistakably offering herself to Overwatch in no uncertain terms. Hell, she was offering them things he hadn't even thought were on the table. He was deeply disturbed by what had happened between his once partner and Jack Morrison. Gabriel Reyes wasn't blind. He knew Talon allowed it's people to trade sex for favors. He'd never seen it done with the cold brutality the Overwatch commander had shown. Jack had taken what he wanted from Widowmaker as she wept. And she let him. She let him do things to her Reaper had never thought to ask. He'd misjudged both his former friend and his traitor team mate in many ways. He stared at the Talon file on Amelie LaCroix, on Gerard's wife.

Gerard his friend, who had been murdered by his wife, Amelie LaCroix, the Widowmaker. Before Talon, he'd never really known her. When Talon had taken her, he''d been the one to help Gerard keep it together. He'd never known the Amelie LaCroix who existed before Talon mentally adjusted her, before they'd re-made her genetics. Before they'd destroyed the former Amelie to make the new.

When he first was assigned to work with her, he'd glossed over her file. Gerard had been someone he liked enough to kill for. Rialto was proof of that. Ungrateful bastard hadn't appreciated it in the least afterwards. But they were friends, and then Gerard was gone, murdered by the very wife he'd been frantic to find and rescue from Talon. Reye's had mourned with the rest of Overwatch at the passing of one of their own. He'd grieved, wanting blood for blood. Then… By the time he found out who the killer was, he was Talon himself and on a quest to wipe out the remains of Overwatch. His own private vendetta. Gerard was just a kill he wouldn't have to make himself, and he'd been… grateful.

He'd eventually gone back and studied the details in her files. When he'd gotten his Talon Council status, he'd gotten all the redacted materials that gave the real story behind the making of Widowmaker. Gabriel Reyes was no one's hero anymore, not even an anti-hero. He was an A-List _VILLAIN_ through and through. He'd damn near lost his lunch reading her details. It wasn't pretty. Even if he'd still wanted to punish her for Gerard, there was nothing he could do to match what had already been done to her. He'd let it go. He couldn't have saved Gerard. He hadn't saved Amelie when she'd needed it. Done was done.

Now, in the field, she was his Talon ally. Or had been. He remembered meeting her for the first time in the chilled blue flesh. He knew why she was an Ice Queen that even Talon's rank and file feared. Cold in manner, cold to touch. Some ghost of respect to her dead husband had kept him as cold to her and their mutual disdain had suited them. They'd worked together smoothly, easily. They were both no longer the people they'd once been. Neither of them was passionate for anyone, or anything, other than the mission.

Or so he'd thought. From Sombra's holo feeds, it looked like LaCroix was actually very much passionate. _Very, very_ much. Shame she was wasting it on Overwatch. So it looked like a Field Interrogation after all. Just Widowmaker and the team she betrayed. Alone together… alone with him… close up and personal. With all that passion to explore.

To be continued.


	5. A Confusion of Wants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela Ziegler is concerned, and pleads with Jack Morrison to leave Amelie LaCroix alone. Amelie suggests Angela use her power to end the situation.

**Prisoner of Peace**

**Part 2 Chapter 5**

**Angela Ziegler - Mercy**

**Jack Morrison - Soldier 76**

 

Angela pulled Jack into a separate room, leaving Amelie resting on the exam table.

"Jack, as Amelie's physician, as the doctor to _both_ of you, I'm asking you not to be alone with her." her voice was hushed, but intense, pleading, "I'm not prying into what is between you two. I _really_ don't want to know. However, as your doctor… your friend… Jack, please… don't."

"We're grown ups, Angela! What I do or don't do with Widowmaker is private. And frankly I'm surprised you would consider this part of your doctoring. What does it matter who she's having sex with? Kill Switch aside?" Jack's automatic argument was reflex.

Morrison had never liked being told what to do, and getting older he'd lost his eager to please attitude that had softened his inner, contrary nature in his younger years. His amiable nature was now harsher, his need to please overshadowed with his need to punish. He couldn't deny, despite his inner shock and displeasure at finding such darkness in his soul… His encounter with Widowmaker had _satisfied_ a hunger he hadn't known was in him. It wasn't just sex. That was part of it, to be sure, but something else… something deeper.

He'd taken pleasure in her tears. Each pain laced sob. The way she tightened around him while he hurt her, fucked her. His name in her mouth as she shook with the violence of his thrusts, his seed exploding deep inside her…

Morrison had already planned to stay away from Amelie… before Angela's plea. But now that the good doctor had vocalized it. Jack wasn't sure he could follow through. Hell, he was nearly hard again just from being in the same room together. Jagged edges… She was more dangerous than he'd thought. In more ways than he could have conceived.

"Kill switch aside… ?" Jack! That should be enough!" Angela wasn't sure if she believed what she was hearing, "And even if that were not the case… It matters to _me_ , Jack. Because I don't think she's capable of saying **no** to anyone she considers a superior. Now that she is with Overwatch, you are her superior officer. She's conditioned to OBEY, Jack. She'll do what you order her to do. _**Whatever**_ you order her to do. Do you understand? For all she's just confirmed what you did was consensual, this borders on rape. Hell, from the amount of healing my health pack had to do, I'm not really sure if what I patched up was rough sex, or something _**worse**_!"

"Angela!" Morrison's voice was shocked. He couldn't believe she'd just made _**that**_ accusation, "You know me! I wouldn't…"

"Haven't you? Already?" Angela's blue eyes were bright with unshed tears, "The Jack Morrison I knew would never screw someone just put under his command. Regardless of circumstances! And the circumstances here are so murky, I could cut them with a knife."

Angela put her hands to her head, trying to stop the pounding she felt as her blood pressure rise, "How could you, Jack? Why would you…?"

"I… " Morrison wasn't sure if Angela was more overcome from finding him having sex with LaCroix, or he was himself.

She was right. He would normally never have sex with anyone under his direct command. But in the beginning his mind had been so clouded with hostility towards Amelie, then seeing her with McCree. So wanton. So wildly sensual, uninhibited… It had sent him into a rage… a lust…

He peered into the other room, where Amelie, despite her sexually aggressive poise in company, when the French assassin thought she was alone, she seemed frail, and vulnerable. Easy to _harm_. Easy to _hurt_. Part of him wanted to be the strong shield between the delicate beauty and the chaotic, sharp edged world. Another, darker part of his soul wanted only to see how much harm she could endure… at his hands.

It was a confusion of wants. To touch her, caress her, to make her bleed. To fuck her rough and raw till she wept, and feel her coming undone on his cock, shuddering around him, her sobs in his ears. Jack watched her sense his stare. Golden eyes, as wild as any forest beast. Hunger, raw and pure in that golden gaze. A dark hunger for the harm he could do her. Madness. He'd been right before. She was dangerous. Damn him, if even knowing all this he still wanted her. He wanted her again, _now_.

"I'll try, Angela, but I'm making no promises." He couldn't answer her questions when he couldn't even give himself answers. "I suggest you be on your guard with her, Doctor Ziegler. His use of her title put him back to business mode instead of friend, "She's poison. Pure and simple."

Damn if he didn't have a taste for it.

He went out the way he came in. Not speaking to Widowmaker, the sear of her gaze conveying more than words ever could.

 

**Amelie LaCroix - Widowmaker**

 

Amelie watched Jack go in silence. Words weren't needed. She could feel it coming off him in waves. Denial. Desire. In a way, surely as if she'd put a bullet to his head, she'd destroyed him. The irony was she hadn't intended any harm. She'd planned on being a good little sniper, amid the Overwatch lambs, their wolfspider in sheep's clothing. She couldn't have planned on Morrison's aggression. Couldn't have fathomed his passion. It was enough she could recognize it, as like knew like. She hadn't realized it at first, when he'd ordered her to strip. But from the first violent thrust of him, she'd know what he'd wanted. What he had really been asking for. She shouldn't have given it to him. She couldn't have not, even if she'd tried. His inner beast demanded a victim, and she was made to be broken. Broken and remade, as many times as it took.

Angela came back not long after the Overwatch Commander's departure. She had work to do, and Amelie could feel her unease. Jesse, for all his bad boy banter, was a boy scout at heart. Their fling was a thing of innocent frolic. Angela had been flustered, but not outraged… not… hurt?

"Angela… ?" she watched the medic pretend to work on something, refusing to look at the former Talon agent. "Is Jack… Do you have feelings for him?"

"Does that matter?" Angela's face was cool, impassive. It didn't suit her.

"You hold my leash, _mon ange,_ if this thing with Jack displeases you… You can _command_ me not to lay with him." She shivered. It didn't bear thinking about, that she would remind this woman of the power granted her by Amelie's switch of allegiance. What was she doing? Out of all the insipid sheep here, Jack might be the only one able to give her what she would need so desperately soon. What would she do then? If there was no one to hurt her the way she needed to be hurt?

"I can't take your free will away from you, Amelie. If you want someone to stop you from laying with Commander Morrison, it will have to be you." Angela's celestial blue eyes were serious. Amelie couldn't understand what statement she was trying to make, by refusing to use the obvious out.

"Stopping isn't something I'm good at, Dr. Ziegler." Amelie sighed, too tired now to play games, "Just ask Gerard."

To be continued.


	6. An Acceptable Substitute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela Ziegler and Amelie LaCroix have words.

**Prisoner of Peace**

**Part 2 Chapter 6**

An Overwatch Fan Fiction

By Mooncatx _The Bliss Crimson_

 

**Amelie LaCroix - Widowmaker**

 

Amelie was somewhat subdued as she followed Angela Ziegler through Overwatch hallways on their way back to the doctor’s rooms.  She studied the stiff line of the Swiss blonde’s back. Angela was still holding in her anger, but it bled off of her like a wound. It seemed the good doctor might have special feelings for Jack Morrison.  That could only end badly. Angela was beautiful, young, and vibrant, but what Jack needed in a bed companion was not in her nature. If anything, the doctor was a dominant soul, more one to take control.

A shiver ran through her at the memory of Angela pressing her down, the doctor’s hands strong on Amelie’s shoulders, the celestial fire of her blue eyes burning through the captured and restrained Talon agent.  Angela’s passionate outburst had called to the assassin’s own passion. A shame Angela didn’t have a cruel streak… or at least one she physically acted on. Amelie would bet money that Angela’s cruelty found other, inventive ways of expressing itself.

Amelie wondered if she’d be sleeping on the floor come nightfall.  Aside from that lushly expressive bed, none of Angela’s furnishings were suitable for sleeping on.  Ziegler was so upset now, Amelie doubted her new team mate and leader was going to want to snuggle with her.  Not that Amelie was a snuggler, despite all the times waking up to Sombra wrapped around her like an octopus. A snoring octopus.  Somehow the latina hacker had got it in her head that Widowmaker’s one true purpose in life was to be a cool, full body pillow for the hot blooded Sombra. 

The sniper had threatened to shoot the small, curvy hacker, but it went in one multi-pierced ear and right out the other.  Amelie would have complained to someone, if she dared to bring any more scrutiny from Talon than absolutely necessary. Maybe that was what Sombra counted on to get away with her outrageous behavior.  It wasn’t like Sombra was molesting her, but Amelie wondered just what went through the hacker’s sugar candy skull, other than the entire world was her personal cat toy.

Amelie considered sleeping with McCree, but discarded the idea as quickly as it occurred.  She didn’t want anyone, including McCree, to mistake them for a couple. That would be unfortunate for everyone involved.  Yes, she’d enjoyed their physical frolic. She liked Jesse, more than she ever could have expected. He’d surprised her by being good company when not trying to pump hot lead into her.  Now he wanted to pump _other_ things into her.  Amelie kept the smirk she felt off her lips.  Much as she liked Jesse, she didn’t want him trying to stake a claim.  She knew killing him would be as good as the sex. Better. She felt it there in her soul.  Simmering beneath the physical lust, her kill hunger. For now sex was a reasonable substitute.  

Much as killing Jesse would please  her, Amelie knew she’d miss him after.  Even if people thought her cold hearted because she didn’t wear her grief openly.  It hurt to kill people she liked. The sniper had mastered the art of keeping her pain in a separate part of herself while there was work to be done.  She would grieve in her dreams, where Talon could not follow to steal away her tears. Amelie kept any melancholy feelings fiercely private. A single tear could land her in reconditioning despite her status as one of Talon’s elite.  Her’s was a special case, of all the other Talon agents she was not her own person. She was a weapon. Property to be maintained at peak performance. Anything that interfered would be excised. Cut away. Including pieces of herself. 

So she only showed satisfaction for her kills.  When the kill bliss faded, well it did little good to wallow in sorrow.  Like fear, grief was merely an obstacle you conquered lest it conquered you.  She’d learned early to master her fear, her grief. People called her a monster because she did what she must.  Amelie merely called it being a survivor and never looked back. She did try to avoid killing people she liked, or in general if she were off mission.  From how people reacted, you would think she left indiscriminate piles of bodies in her wake. She wasn’t as kill happy as that. All things considered, she killed rarely.  She was a leashed hunting hound, mainly killing on command. Murder was her mission, but targets were carefully chosen by others, and she was sent out too infrequently for her taste.  She did kill for herself, on very rare occasion, a few fiercely private and personal occasions. She was careful. Oh so very careful.

She knew it wasn’t wise to engage Angela now.  Amelie decided to push anyway. After all, only those who dared going too far would ever know how far they could truly go.

“Angela, I need to wash.  I still have some of Jack and Jesse… on me.” Amelie worded it as delicately as she could.  

Both men had left their mark on her.  In her. She swiveled her hips thoughtfully.  It felt rather decadent to have the two Overwatch agents’ seed mixed together inside of her.  She’d teased Angela with the suggestion of having both men taking her together. A pretty fantasy she knew would never be.  She doubted Jesse would be comfortable with how roughly Jack would treat her. How he would need to hurt her. Likewise Jack was so inherently dominant that she didn’t see him as the type to share.  Still. The thought of being pressed between both hard muscled males, shared between them, Amelie felt unfamiliar warmth flush through her.

Meanwhile what she’d alluded to finally penetrated the doctor’s angry reserve.  Her pale Swiss complexion was was warming to deepening shades of rose. The stain of color crept from her swan like neck to the crest of her high cheekbones.  A blaze of rising blood. Amelie knew the other woman was thinking about them, Jake and Jesse, and Amelie caught between them. The Swiss woman’s sensual nature was being teased by her own imagination.  The natural sexuality Angela denied herself was as restless as Amelie’s own. Unlike Ziegler, Amelie LaCroix didn’t strangle her desires. That way led to folly. The doctor restrained herself to the point she pretended not to have them.  It was no wonder it took so little to set her off.

Like now.  Angela’s clenched jaw looked painful, but the flash of celestial fire in her eyes was… lovely.  Amelie felt a softness in herself that was unfamiliar. Part of her wanted to reach out and sooth the tightness in Angela’s ridged back, stroke the clenched jaw till Angela relaxed and opened herself to…

“You can shower in our rooms.” Angela bit out the words between the sharp gleam of her white teeth.

Amelie blinked, and briefly wondered how those teeth would feel, marking the tenderness of her bare blue skin.

“I’ll need a change of clothes.” she added, watching Angela’s mouth with silent interest.  

This time Angela replied more slowly, more thoughtfully.  Her blue eyes assessing Amelie’s attire as she spoke. “Yes.  We need to get you more clothes. Perhaps something less… provocative.”

Now it was Amelie’s spine that stiffened.  Inside, something was tight and pained.

“Why?”

Angela hummed a moment before speaking.

“People will assume certain things from how you dress, Amelie.  Why provide a trigger for… unfortunate actions?”

No doubt to it.  The doctor was clearly thinking of Morrison.  Angela was blaming Jack’s actions on Amelie, on how she dressed.   _Merde._

“You think I’m asking for it.” Amelie’s voice had gone flat, her words clipped with her distaste.  She was… disappointed. She knew Angela was a bit prudish, but it bothered her that the doctor would be that narrow minded. Amelie didn’t normally care what others thought but Angela’s comment pricked at something in the assassin’s inner heart.  

“Men will have their urges, Angela.” She spoke softly, voice almost a low growl.  “Regardless of what a woman wears, or doesn’t wear. If I were stark naked or dressed as a nun, it’s up to the individual person how they handle those urges.  I was bare and bound, yet Jesse _chose_ not to take advantage of me.  Because he saw me having sex with Jesse, Jack felt the urge to punish me.  He acted on that urge. Not because of how I was dressed, but because he _chose_ to use his authority to have his way with me.  We are not base animals. We are thinking creatures.  Unless there are extreme, extenuating circumstance, we should own our own actions.  I own mine. I allow men or women to have me either because I desire them, or because I’m showing my compliance to authority over me.  I could chose to NOT comply, and accept the consequences. Our choices may be limited. They may be total crap. But they are own choices to make, none the less.  So unless ordered otherwise, I will choose to wear whatever I like, and everyone else be damned.”

Angela’s blue eyes were wide as saucers at the former Talon agent’s quiet, intense rant.  She felt a surreal amazement to be lectured on free will by a woman who, by her calculations, had been conditioned by Talon into being the perfect, obedient assassin.  She almost missed a critical piece of information in her shock.

“What do you mean.  Jack used his authority to have his way with you?” Angela latched onto that comment grimly.

Amelie looked at the doctor with an arched brow.  “What do you think I meant? I let him fuck me because he ordered me to.  Oh, I won’t say I didn’t have my share of… pleasure, from the encounter. Now that door has been opened, it will no doubt be used again.  I am not stupid, Angela. I did not seduce Jack, if that is what you thought. I know enough not to muddy the waters.” She shrugged, “But it happened.  Now, if Jack comes to me again, yes, I will part my thighs and take his cock however he likes it. If he wants to make it hurt, I’ll take the pain and weep true tears for him.  I’ll take it as deep and hard as he drives it, and let him glory in my unfeigned screams.”

Leaning closer to a seemingly stunned, silent Angela.  Amelie spoke softly, her breath a silken caress in the doctor’s ear.  “I’ll enjoy it. It will feed my darker needs like few things will. Jack fucking me will satisfy something very basic in me.  I’m not a complicated person Angela, but Jack has woken up a particular hunger in me. I choose to feed my need, my hunger… with Jack.  Unless… You order me not to.”

Angela glared at the assassin as they finally reached her quarters.  This wasn’t a discussion for the public halls.

“I can’t order you to sleep or not to sleep with someone!” Angela exploded once they were safely inside her rooms, slamming the door shut to accentuate her ire.

“Then offer me an acceptable substitute!” Amelie was trying to be reasonable.  Ordinarily she’d be fine _not_ having sex with someone.  

_Merde_ , but between Jesse and Jack, she’d had more sex in one day than in any given year in Talon since Moira.  Unfortunately Jack’s special demands had kick started hungers that had lain dormant since the mad doctor and her modifications.  All her seals seemed to have blown off. Jesse’s rich, satisfying love making had been like a banquet to someone who’d survived on meager scraps for years.  Jack’s harshness had been the hard kick of potent liquor to an alcoholic. Since her modifications, she only had sex when performing a mission, or when servicing a superior officer.  It had been infrequent, and provided her little personal satisfaction.

She’d been numb to it all.  Even when she’d taken a rare lover to satisfy a feeling of restlessness, it was never more than mildly pleasant.  In a matter of days… hours... Overwatch had ripped away the layers of insulation she’d carefully cocooned herself in over years while in Talon.  Suddenly she was unprotected and faced with searing sensations and hungers she’d buried and thought dead...

Amelie spun away from Angela’s frustrated cerulean gaze, nearly giving into the need to just scream.  “You wanted me to exercise free will Angela. If you offer me someone else, someone who can give me what Morrison can… I’ll choose the better of the two.”

“I can’t offer up other people like that!” Angela protested, trying not to sputter.

“Then don’t offer _other_ people, Angela.” Amelie’s voice had dropped to a throaty low threat as she faced the doctor once more, her gold eyes almost glowing.

Wide blue eyes staring, Angela licked her lips, as if trying to moisten a mouth gone dry.  “I don’t… I don’t know what you mean.” she spoke faintly.

“Liar.” Amelie stalked past the now silent doctor, headed for the shower.

 

to be continued.


	7. I Just Need A Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Amelie has some company. A little exposition.

**Prisoner of Peace**

**Part 2 Chapter 7**

 

**Amelie LaCroix - Widowmaker**

 

McCree and Reinhardt returned from their debriefing together, Brigitte trailing behind.  They apparently had stopped at their rooms first to change to more comfortable and relaxed clothes.  Reinhardt was wearing a soft looking blue-grey flannel shirt and casual trousers. McCree had another sarape in a dark blue, otherwise he wore another set of the same clothes as before.  He apparently had a look and kept to it, with variations of color. Brigitte was in casual sweats and a tool belt snugging in her waist It looked rather fetching, but that was mainly because the girl herself was so attractive, in the way of young healthy creatures.  

Amelie was stretched sideways over an overstuffed chair, long legs draped over one plush arm, head resting on the other.  One bare arm was across her eyes, the other lay limply down the front of the chair, her hand resting on the floor. Out of the small pile of clothes Angela had left her to change into after the shower, Amelie had chosen a panty and camisole set of pale champagne pink and ignored the rest.  She was enjoying having her skin bare as possible, and she was pleased with the velvety nap of the chair she was resting on. Hard, strong sex had always made her very touch sensitive afterwards, the same way a good kill did. Moira had been kind in her own way. She’d left a sweet escape from her more normally sedated state.  

Amelie had learned to make the most of slipping Talon’s harness.  She’d begun to push the limit on her ability to feel as soon as she learned she **_could_ ** push them.  She also learned to disguise her ability to feel, selective though it was, least Talon decide to close off her little work around.  But now she was with Overwatch and she could let her guard down just a fraction. After all, if Talon got ahold of her now, no amount of playing numb would keep her from either death or deep conditioning.  Too deeply reconditioned, she might as well be dead, because whoever surfaced in her body afterwards would not be her.

She would be Amelie 3.0, or perhaps not even an Amelie at all.  In the early days she’d been so many Amelies… even a few Danielles.  All the little shattered shards of her past selves weeping from the torment, and crying futilely for rescue.  Until she accepted rescue would never come, and she left behind the weakest parts of herself and let the newest Amelie be the rescue.  So much agony fell away when she embraced the killer in her soul. All the fierce dedication she’d focused on being first ballerina, a creature of grace and beauty, she’d bent to becoming the perfect killer.  And it had saved her. Damned her. Let her survive the way the weaker versions of herself would not. And she was yet a creature of grace and beauty. This Amelie could withstand punishment, could kill without crippling guilt.  This Amelie could survive in Talon. Surely she could survive Overwatch.

Lazily she let her eyes drift over the other people in the room.  Angela had escaped to her work, leaving Amelie alone in the rooms to rest.  McCree had appreciation in his eyes and a grin on his face, while Reinhardt had a hint of pink to his cheeks just above his beard, but his good eye held laughter in a good humored way.  The girl, Brigitte had a bit of blush as well, but her eyes were cooly assessing.

“Aren’t you chilly in just your skivvies?!” Reinhardt exclaimed, his hands hovering as if he wanted to throw a blanket over her near nudity, but there wasn’t one at hand.

Amelie rolled onto her side stretched languidly, beckoning the German over.  Reinhardt went to her, sinking down to one knee to be head level with her.

“Thank you for lending me your undershirt.  I’d have to come to Overwatch naked without your kindness.”  Impulsively she threw her arms around his massive shoulders and hugged him.  She snuggled against him, drinking in the warmth of him.

“Uh… Ms. LaCroix… “ he rumbled disconcerted.  Reinhardt was blushing as Amelie pressed against him.

“You are so big and warm.” she sighed and released him. “Sorry, I’m very tactile sensitive right now.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d guess you’d just gotten lucky!” Jesse McCree chuckled, remembering how touch hungry Amelie had been after their passionate encounter in the Biotic Gun Range.

Amelie hummed under her breath, not sure how to answer.  Angela’s attitude towards Jack taking what he wanted from the former Talon sniper hadn’t been positive.  She was also sure that one didn’t broadcast the sexual encounters with superiors here any more than in Talon.  Oh, she’d been used in Talon, especially in the early years, before Moira had changed her. She was after all just rank and file then, with a pretty face, a pretty mouth, and convenient everything else.  It had taken years of earning rank and expertise till it was she who could demand favors, and superiors took into consideration how very dangerous she was as well as pretty.

The command performances had fallen off dramatically after she’d been with Moira.  The red haired doctor had shown her the uses of sensational rumor and dramatic spin.  Her call sign Widowmaker, her intimidating attitude, the inhuman color of her blue skin and golden eyes.  Moira had gifted Amelie with a gossamer armor of deadly implications against other Talon predators, and she’d been grateful.  And when Moira herself preyed on her, Amelie had surrendered everything to her mad doctor willingly. Yet still… while Moira had exalted in Widowmaker’s creation, she hadn’t kept her.  Amelie was a tool after all, her use relished, but ultimately released without a second thought...

“Amelie?!” McCree’s exclamation brought her back to the point, “As I live and breath, we haven’t been apart more than an hour or two!  Who have you gone and tupped in that time!?”

His face was equal part shock, and good humored respect.  It didn’t even occur to him that Amelie wasn’t a free agent to share herself with anyone she pleased.  Theirs was a simple kinship of mutual attraction and a similar love of action. Something inside her breathed relief.  Friends. Jesse McCree and she could simply be friends.

“I can’t really talk about it.” She answered him mildly, willing to keep what was between her and Jack on a need to know basis, and nobody else but Angela as her doctor really needed to know. “I’m not at liberty to say.”

Jesse stilled at that.  “You say that like it’s work related.”

His grin had turned to a frown, and Amelie wanted to bite her tongue.  In Talon it would be a given, someone who ranked you had the privilege to take advantage.  It wasn’t a daily occurrence, but not so uncommon that everyone knew better than to poke into things that could end them up in a superior’s bad graces.

Amelie looked Jesse in the eye and spoke as honestly as she could.  “I can’t talk about it Jesse. Let’s just say Angela’s already pissed at me, and I really don’t want to deal with more of the same crap for just following orders.”

She’d hoped that the simple explanation would pacify the cowboy.  If anything Jesse McCree looked… grim.

“Orders?  Someone ordered you to… have sex with them?”

This was not going right at all.  She’d wanted to calm him down, not rile him up.  Amelie was at a loss for how to explain something that was so simple a part of her existence that she’d never had to discuss it with anyone, to someone who clearly found it alien and… distasteful.  They might as well be from different worlds.

“Don’t be this way Jesse.  It’s not something I’m not used to in Talon.  If a superior wants to have you… they have you.  I mean, of course you could object, and accept the consequences.  I don’t know of anyone who has died for refusing. But I’m okay with it.  It’s not a big deal. In fact it was quite… satisfying for me. And I only needed the healing pack because of my kill switch.”

“You needed a healing pack!?!” McCree’s grip on his gun tightened.

“You shot me with a biotic bullet after we had sex in the Biotic Firing Range!” Amelie countered, exasperated, “We probably did it a half dozen times right on the range floor, and we both were pumped with biotic bullets before we even started!”

“You both did what now?” Reinhardt was trying to follow the conversation, and ignore how the former Talon agent had gravitated back towards him and was hugging him absent mindedly as if he were a large teddy bear.

Brigitte was following the conversation with a better grip than her godfather.

“Overwatch officers do not demand sexual favors from subordinates.” she interrupted, frowning.

“Hmm… “ Amelie eyed the younger woman warily.  So fresh faced, and innocent. Jack would never make the same demands on this girl, not the ones he’d hadn’t hesitated to claim from a former Talon agent.  This sweet girl had nothing in her to punish. Jack could torment Amelie till the end of days, and never balance the sin he saw in her.

“Yes.  You are right, Brigitte.” Amelie spoke mildly, not realizing she was plastering herself against Reinhardt. “No Overwatch officer will ever make such demands of you.”

Brigitte frowned deeper.  “Or anyone.”

“As you like.” Amelie spoke evenly, not wanting to argue the point.  She saw no benefit in disillusioning the Swedish girl.

“Who was it?” Jesse wasn’t letting it go.  He wasn’t an idealistic girl, and he’d seen worse things in Blackwatch, and knew that Overwatch had a darker underbelly than many wanted to admit to.

“No one.  Nothing happened.” Amelie pushed herself from Reinhardt, and strode to where Angela had left her a choice of clothing.  It wasn’t a great selection. They were still Angela’s cast offs, and the blonde woman was both shorter than Amelie, and more busty, but with more slender hips than the former ballerina.  As well, the doctor’s taste in clothes and Amelie’s was… different.

“I’m not letting this go.” Jesse had followed her.  Standing close his words were low, private. Reinhardt was pulling a mulish looking Brigitte, away, leaving the room and leaving McCree alone with Amelie.

“Don’t play white knight, Jesse.” Amelie spoke softly as he pressed against her from behind.  Mentally she measured the feel of him against her, both of them somewhat clothed, and how it felt to have Jack’s hardness against her bare derriere.  Jesse was masculine in a way she deeply appreciated, but Jack… The old soldier was pure, potent domination in human form. Just pressed against her, she’d known Morrison would be relentless, ruthless…

Turning she placed her hands against Jesse’s face, framing his concerned face as she kissed him, slowly.  He took her mouth with his and deepened the kiss till something in her caught fire and she moaned against him, hands dropping to lower, harder parts of the cowboy.

“Angela won’t be back for hours.” she spoke between demanding kisses.

“Tell me who took you, sugar cube.” Jesse’s voice was cajoling as his own hands explored the silky camisole, cupping her flesh through the silky material.

“No. It’s not important.  Fuck me Jesse. Here. Now.  We only need to be thinking of each other.” Amelie ground her silky clad nether region to the hard bulge in Jesse’s denim jeans.

“I just need a name, sugar plum.” Jesse reached between them to play with the moistening material.  Amelie let out a gasp that fed into a moan of need. She needed to remember something. Something important…

“Kill Switch!” she gasped, as Jesse’s fingers slide past the silky panties and into her oh so ready tightness.  Her thoughts were fragmenting as his fingers played inside her.

“Angela thinks my Kill Switch is tied to my agreeing to sex, or assassination.  We need a healing pack for after. I’m sure Angela has some stashed in her room.”  Amelie managed to say as she rode Jesse’s fingers, little mews of need escaping her as Jesse plunged his digits in strong and sure, knowing from their previous encounters just where to press and stroke to make Amelie shudder and cry with need.  “Jesse… !!!”

“What?!” Jesse pulled away, leaving Amelie gasping, her head spinning from the change of his sensual stroking bringing her closer to **_le petite mort_ ** , to holding her at arms’ length, his face grim, his eyes searching hers.

“My kill switch.  For me sex and assassination are close to the same thing.  Agreeing to one or the other outside of Talon’s directive, is my kill switch.  Even if we stop now, I’ve already committed myself, I’m going to need a healing pack.” Amelie panted through her words, her breath feeling short, as if she were not getting enough air.

“Amelie?!” Jesse caught the dark haired woman as she went limp in his arms.  

To be continued.

 

 


	8. Part 2 Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which McCree expresses his concerns to his superior.

**Prisoner of Peace**

**Part 2 Chapter 8**

An Overwatch Fan Fiction

By Mooncatx  _ The Bliss Crimson _

**Amelie LaCroix - Widowmaker**

 

It was becoming an unwelcome habit to wake up with the subaudible buzz of biotic healing  humming through her system. Jesse must have gotten her to a healer quickly. She didn’t feel as if much time had gone by, minutes at best.  Strange, she was beginning to recognize the nuances of biotic healing events. This really couldn’t be good for her, all these healings needed so constantly, so close together.

Jesse McCree’s concerned face was the first thing she recognized once she could see straight.  Jack’s grim frown was the next thing she saw, as the older soldier was standing just beyond the cowboy.  How deja vu...

“You can thank your lucky stars!  Commander Morrison was practically at the door when I went to get help.” Jesse exclaimed, his whole hearted relief was readily apparent, “His biotic field perked you up right away.”

“I… see.” 

Amelie felt rather than saw the biotic field center planted near her head.  McCree had laid her out on the floor before he’d left to get a healer. It must be the universe laughing at her that Jack was the first person McCree ran into.  So Commander Morrison had biotic technology. Pity he hadn’t had it with him earlier. Angela would never have been the wiser and Amelie’s life would have been one string less tangled.

“Thank you, Commander Morrison.” Amelie got to her feet with Jesse’s assistance, voice poker player neutral a she assessed her situation, “I am… grateful you were nearby and able to come to my aid.”

“I was bringing some biotic field generators for Angela.” Jack’s gruff explanation   She mentioned that she was going to be running tests to get a baseline for your kill switch triggers.  Depending on how the tests go, I thought having a range of biotic technology to fall back on might be beneficial.” 

Jack’s voice was a softer growl than he’d used before.  He seemed… sincere. Amelie looked from the Overwatch Commander to Jesse and saw only appreciation and gratitude in Jesse’s face.  Jack was more than a superior officer. They were friends. Jesse had genuine respect for the older Overwatch agent, he looked up to Jack.

“Morrison, can I speak to you a moment?” Jesse gestured for Jack to follow him out of Amelie’s range of hearing.  Sotte voice, Jesse spoke to his superior.

“Amelie won’t tell me who, but I am sure someone took advantage of her.  She says it’s not uncommon if a superior… For people in Talon to demand sex from subordinates.  I want to get her to open up, but she just won’t let go of her Talon mindset. But, if someone took sexual advantage of her, I’m going to put a bullet where the sun don’t shine.”

Jack’s face was neutral, his voice was a low rumble, “She’s not talking?  How do you even know she’s had sex with someone here besides yourself?”

Jesse’s eyes narrowed, “Look Morrison, I know you saw the security feed of us having some fun.  Angela already let us know. So when I tell you I know when Amelie has had sex, I’m speaking as someone whose had the privilege of knowing her in the biblical way.  When she’s been with someone, she’s like a kitten afterwards, all loose limbs and purrs, and as touch starved and anyone I’ve ever seen. 

Whatever Talon did to her, it isolated her from basic, everyday human contact.  She’s built up her defenses into this ice queen persona, but there is a real, humanity starved soul in there, and she’s crying out in her actions if not her words.”

“Her actions are those of assassin, McCree.” Jack reminded the cowboy, his growl as stern as steel. “She’s not a bitty kitty.  Amelie LaCroix is, if anything, a full grown man eater. A tigress can be beautiful, Jesse, but for all that beauty, she’s still a seasoned killer.  At the end of the hunt, it’s you or her, McCree. That the writing on the wall.”

“I don’t believe that!  Deep down, I don’t think you believe it either Morrison.” Jesse glared into the implacable steel blue gaze of the Overwatch Commander.  “You were her friend. Before Talon took her, and hurt her so much that she became the killer you talk about. Look, I know you watching us…  I know that must have been hard, Jack. I know she’s a lot of different things to you, your friend Gerard’s wife, his widow, his killer. But while she’s all those things, she’s also a beautiful, vulnerable woman, one who has suffered years of torment at the hands of Talon through no choice of her own.  She doesn’t deserve to suffer torment at the hands of Overwatch as well.”

Jack’s mouth was a grim line, and it was a long moment before he spoke.

“No, she doesn’t deserve abuse at Overwatch.  But I’d be careful before making accusations, McCree.” Jack glanced over at Amelie who was hovering over the remains of the biotic field generator as if warming herself over the embers of a fire.  He couldn’t help but take in the barely there, champagne pink lingerie, the tousled black fall of her long, long hair, all that soft blue skin revealed. He could almost feel how that tender skin would take the mark of his teeth.  He nearly choked on his next words, but he managed them anyway, “All she has to do is say no, and no one at Overwatch is going to push the point.” 

“You know there’s more to this than simply saying no, Commander Morrison.” Jesse growled under his breath.  

“And what if she wants… What if she consents to relations?  Are you her protector, McCree? Or a jealous rival for others who’d take a taste of our little honey pot?” Jack nodded to Amelie who was now watching the interaction between the two males with a steady, golden stare.

“I’m not a jealous soul,” McCree spoke plainly, “I would not stand between Amelie and other lovers.  I like her and all, but I’m not looking to get hitched, or even go steady right now. I just don’t want to see some low bellied snake get away with something… wrong.”

“...  I’ll keep that under advisement.” Morrison replied after a moment of silence. “I’ll just leave you two alone for now.     

to be continued.

 

 

 


	9. Part 2 Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amelie makes a sandwich

**Prisoner of Peace**

**Part 2 Chapter 9**

An Overwatch Fan Fiction

By Mooncatx  _ The Bliss Crimson _

**Amelie LaCroix - Widowmaker**

 

Amelie knew that Jesse McCree wouldn’t endanger her life, even if there were healing packs and biotic field generators available.  Not for sex. She saw it in his boyscout eyes, even as they ran over her with mournful regret. She kissed him on the rough stubble of his cheek, and went to Angela’s closet once more.  She’d seen them in back, earlier that morning. She’d bypassed the ripped leggings because she’d wanted something more dressy, less grunge work out rags. Now she wanted grunge, and the more ripped and bleeding the better.  

They might have been yoga pants, once.  Knees worn out to little more than lycra webbing, and zig zagging snags that had gave them a scarred and used look.  They were clean as any of the other, less worn looking clothes, but were probably meant for the rag bag when Angela finally thought of it.  They were the color of her altered mood, streaked storm cloud grey. She found a grey sports bra that looked too small for Angela, but would be just snug enough for her smaller breasts, and a faded blue tank top.  She took scissors from Angela’s desk and cut the bottom half off, making it a rough crop top. 

Ignoring Jesse she shimmied out of the camisole set and put on her makeshift work out clothes.  No panties again. The leggings were like a second skin and wouldn’t forgive anything between her flesh and the well stretched material.  She was getting accustomed to going commando. She was barefoot, but didn’t want to put the boots on for what she had in mind. Angela didn’t have anything appropriate.  The former Talon agent frowned, but finally settled on a pair of one size fits all footies. More sock than shoe, they’d do for the moment. 

She took an elastic band from Angela’s desk and pulled her hair back into a high pony.  Better. That felt like herself again. She looked at herself in the mirror on the inside of Angela’s closet door.  She looked… well she looked unarmed. Anyone looking at her could tell she wasn’t packing anything. Unless they knew enough to consider she WAS a weapon, she looked relatively harmless.

Jesse’s drawn out groan drew her attention to the cowboy she’d dismissed from her thoughts.

“You are going to be the death of me.” 

Jesse had stood surprised and dumbstruck as she’d tended to her business as if there were no one else with her.  Just because he wasn’t going to have sex with her didn’t mean he wasn’t hurting for it. The sniper hid her smile and bent over so he’d have a proper view of her bottom in the thin stretched leggings.  “Does this make my ass look too fat?”

Jesse whimpered.  It looked round and delectable.

“I’ll let you off the hook, cowboy.” Amelie said as she straightened up again, stretching so she was on tip toes, before sliding up to the cowboy, “If you can take me someplace I can stretch out a little.  I haven’t had an opportunity or place to work the kinks out of my body since before Marrakesh.”

Jesse tried not to think of the sniper’s assets and focused on her face, “Well, we are a bit limited on facilities here, but there is a spot I can think of.  The kids like to go there for dancing, indoor sports, what all. It’s an unofficial gym/hangout.”

“Kids?” Amelie arched an eyebrow.

“The youngsters.  Hana, Luchio, Reinhardt’s squire, that girl Brigitte.  They wanted somewhere off the official grid to hang out and work off their excess energy.  No one is likely to be using it now.” McCree opined as his eyes lingered on the soft shine of Amelie’s lips as they drew up in a subtle smile.

“Lead on, McCree.” she said slipping her arm into his.

***

McCree brought her to a less used section of the base.  The space was as large as a school gymnasium, roughly hewn walls, but an even, smooth paved floor, no windows, but against one wall was a permanent barre.  It seemed less a part of a working Watchpoint than a factory or mining concern, as over head the vaulted ceiling was criss crossed with metal girders, perhaps meant for later infrastructure.  On the wall opposite the barre was a catwalk area and what looked like entrances for storage spaces. 

The lighting was bright, making up for the lack of a view with what appeared to be state of the art hard light projectors, the kind that theaters were now incorporating for both stage dressing and for constructing specialty venues for audiences.  Amelie had no doubt the currently bare area could house hard light stadium seating if required, or project backdrops for theatrical productions. Despite it’s primitive look, someone had laid out major money for those subtle upgrades. And the nice little fridge in a corner nook.  Small card table with folding chairs, paper plates, plastic utensils. Someone liked to have their snack conveniently on hand. Good to know. 

“I’ll leave you here to exercise.  You holler if you need anything.” 

McCree dragged her against the hard, warm strength of his body with a sudden urgency that caught her off guard, before kissing her long and deep.  She could feel his readiness and it made her whimper as she pressed against him, wanting what he would not give her now. Breaking off the kiss, McCree rubbed his thumb against the softness of her cheek and looked into her want ridden gaze.  His cheeky smile made her growl a little. 

“Just keep that thought in mind, sugar cube.  Once this kill switch business is done…” he let the words trail off and the hunger in his eyes speak for him.

The former Talon agent watched the cowboy leave with mixed feelings.  Hunger for him. Frustration. Concern. McCree was getting attached. He was a magnificent lover.  His death would be even more exquisite than Mondatta’s assassination. She had to stop thinking before it got her in more trouble than she already was.    

Amelie went through one of her normal stretching regimes.  Letting her thoughts drift as her body fell into a physical routine she could do in her sleep.  Normally she spent a few hours every day just stretching, keeping her muscle tissues limber and prepared.  Then a few more hours in acrobatic exercises, and more hours target practicing, then weapon maintenance. Her days were far from empty, mission or no.  She had practically zero social life, and she could only sleep so much. There were few things she could do that wouldn’t raise flags from the constant surveillance Talon kept on her.  

So she did what she could, and endured.  Missions were always a sweet release. Now, in the Overwatch base, everything was almost painfully different.  Their organizational mores were different, the expression of their desires were different. She’d carved out her high level niche in Talon, stark though it was.  Here she was an unknown quantity, and no longer an elite in the organization’s social structure. She wasn’t even sure what her status was. Prisoner, guest, guinea pig, war prize, sexual plaything… regardless of all else, even here they could not ignore the one thing that was the essence of her being,  **_killer._ **

With so much space, and no Talon eyes on her, Amelie impulsively went through some tumbling exercises, just for the joy of moving her body as she wished.  Slowly a feeling of exhilaration filled her. Eyeing the metal beams above, she sighed in regret that she had no grappling equipment. It would be nice to leave the ground and flit between high point to high point, seeking that perfect perch to take out her target.  The high shadows above looked inviting. She left off tumbling and began a series of dance jumps and leaps. Even without her grappling gauntlet, she could still almost fly. She’d forgotten how much she loved leaving the ground behind, using only her own skill and body to defy gravity.  The only thing missing to make the moment more perfect was music… and food.

Amelie gradually slowed her movements, allowed her breathing to become deep and even as she warmed down.  Slowing to a graceful stop, she felt the beginning tremors of need, Amelie headed to the little refrigerator.  She was starving. All the events, the healings, and her own metabolism had left her reserves stretched thin. Normally she had several small healthy meals through the day.  More grazing than dining, but she was not wanting to deal with the commissary alone if she could avoid it. Here there were no handlers making sure she had a small protein or vitamin shake every few hours.   No one to care or tend to herself for basic nutrition other than herself. She hoped there was something in the little fridge that would curb the hunger now clawing at her gut.

Amelie loved the combination of hot pepper jelly mixed with creamy peanut butter, mushed together between two warm mini waffles.  She’d plundered the little fridge and was well pleased with the result. The jelly’s sweet spiciness was delicious, little cuts of candied pepper shining like red and green jewels caught in nearly transparent amber, the peanut butter melted and runny, coated her fingers with a sticky sweetness and she licked them with concentrated care to not waste even a drop.  The waffles were the store bought frozen kind, but she’d toasted them with the small kitchen appliance tucked on the card table along with a sadly empty coffee pot. A bottle of water pulled from the mini fridge quenched her thirst. 

Normally the only time she went long times without food was on mission, and even then there was a limit.   Once she hit her limit it wasn’t pretty. People tended to die. She couldn’t remember the last time her schedule had been so out of control.  Sooner or later she’d have to work out going to the commissary and getting food on her own. Especially if things continued to go the way they had already.  Who knew being literally screwed to death would burn up so much energy?

She sensed the stare first.  Then she saw the sad, sad face of the Brazilian boy.  The DJ, Lucio.

“That was the last jar of my gramgram’s homemade jalapeno jelly.” 

His voice was tragedy.  His eyes were huge shimmering pools of grief.  Amelie stared at his trembling lower lip. He was so perfectly adorable, she could eat him up with a spoon.  

“It was delicious?” She said around the last mouthful.  She took some time to methodically lick the remains from around her mouth and off her fingers.

A big fat tear shimmered on Lucio’s cheek.  She sighed inside. She needed allies. Lucio was popular.  One of the obscenely young Overwatch agents. She didn’t want to alienatae him if she could help it.

“What can I do to make it up to you?”

***

Lucio was good with his hands.  Amelie was moving in rhythm with his body, a faint sheen of sweat covered them both as their hips synched in a sensuous shimmy.  He spun her around and drew her back so her hips snugged back into him. Her arms raised high above her head as his slid down her sides possessively.  While she’d been a professional ballerina, Amelie was trained in almost all forms of dance to varying degrees. Lucio needing someone to practice tango with had been a surprise.  He was going to be a guest on a show where they took famous music entertainers and partnered them with dancers in different genres. 

Instead of his normal electronica pop, Lucio was letting a song written almost a hundred years ago thrum through his sound system.  

“Roxanne… you don’t have to put on that red light…”

El tango del Roxanne, the soaring and sexual version from the old classic Moulin Rouge, filled the makeshift gymnasium as she took Lucio through the choreography again.  They’d been at it for hours, and she was feeling a familiar, welcome ache in her muscles. Latin ballroom was a far cry from the liquid pop and lock Lucio’s music inspired.  But the tango was a timeless interaction between bodies that made an art of seduction from every movement. They’d done various versions, moving to the music, practicing choreography, finding that feeling of rightness that made their bodies each an extension of the other.  

Lucio actually had a great foundation in dance, he was cross trained in a lot dance genres.  It shouldn’t have surprised her that he’d thoroughly explored music and dance his whole life.  It was who and what he was, at the very core. The expression of soul through sound and movement.  She’d been just like him at that age. With him she was like that again. They moved. The music gave them a framework, their bodies flowed through it like water filling a glass, overflowing to pour uncontained through the openings of each beat…

The music ended abruptly, Amelie half collapsed onto the floor, the fallen woman, a victim of her own passionate nature, Lucio bent over her in a pose of hunger and pursuit.  They held the pose for a long moment, letting their breathing steady in their lungs. Then Lucio dropped beside her, all loose limbs and satisfaction. He moaned in a pure expression of delight.  

“That was… unreal.  Oh man! I feel great” 

“Like really good sex.  You finish, and your bones are practically melted away, and all you are is flesh, aching from the motion, filled with satisfaction.” Amelie agreed, enjoying the sensation. 

“Am I interrupting something?!” A high pitched female voice demanded as Hana Song entered the room, glaring at them.

To be continued.

 


	10. Part 2 Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amelie meets the younger side of Overwatch.

**Prisoner of Peace**

**Part 2 Chapter 10**

An Overwatch Fan Fiction

By Mooncatx _The Bliss Crimson_

**Amelie LaCroix - Widowmaker**

 

Amelie looked up at Hana Song.  Up close out of her mech, the girl looked far too young for anything but video games and boys safely her own age.  She was the type that men with a daddy fetish would enslave themselves to. Petite didn’t begin to cover it. The little Korean girl made Tracer look like a hulking amazon.  Amelie smirked. She’d been good all day. She deserved a little personal entertainment. Rolling over sideways, she was suddenly pinning a still panting Lucio.

“What a wonderful work out, Lucio.  My body is completely… satisfied.” she purred out, before planting a deeply passionate kiss on the surprised DJ.  

Lucio had a nice mouth.  Warm, soft, mobile lips that met hers with an expert’s skill.  Even surprised, Lucio gave as good as he got. The kiss was very enjoyable, far more than Amelie had been expecting.

Hana’s jaw had dropped from the moment the lip lock began.  When she could finally breathe again, the shriek that echoed through the gym was epic.  As Amelie rolled to her feet, the small Korean launched at her like a missle!

“Hana!” Lucio shouted out, alarmed, “Stop!”

Amelie rolled with the impact and kept rolling so that Hana ended up under her.  Pinning the mecha pilot’s wrists to each side of her head, she saw the girl’s mouth opening for another blood curdling screech, the sniper did the first thing she could think of to cut off Hana’s scream.  She kissed her.

At first, the smaller woman seemed stunned.  Amelie began to pull away…

Then Hana was kissing back like it was a competition.  Amelie felt the little mech pilot’s intensity and knew it was all or nothing for the younger girl.  Hana Song was one of those people who had to win or die trying. The sniper had already had her fun, no need to let it escalate, so Amelie let Hana gain the upper hand.  She submitted to the mech pilot’s driving need to dominate, letting the smaller, younger woman top her. She whimpered, signalling her submission, releasing the mech pilot’s wrists and rocking backwards, trying to sit back.  Hana followed, continuing to kiss the sniper with almost savage intensity, small hands grabbing Amelie’s hair, pulling almost painfully, sending unexpected heat pulsing through her. Spiderwebs of electricity that traced pathways of excitement to Amelie’s core.  Then Lucio was pulling a panting, growling, wild eye’d Hana off of the now breathless and wide-eyed Amelie.

“Daaamn… I don’t know if I should be freaked or ask when the wedding is.” Lucio was holding the little mech pilot by her middle, who was now slumped forward like a sulky cat.

Amelie scooted backwards, still on the floor, still somewhat dazed by the intensity of Hana’s aggressive passion.   **_Dieu_ **!  Well Jack wasn’t the only person in Overwatch who could dominate her if necessary.  What were they feeding these people? She looked at Hana with a new wariness. Baby doms.  What was the world coming to?

“What got into you Hana?” Lucio asked, giving Hana a little jostle, his arms still wrapped around her middle.

“Mine.” Hana said looking away.

“What’s yours, Hana?” Lucio asked confused, “Ms LaCroix?”  You barely know her. That is NOT nice Hana Song! You can’t _own_ people.  You probably scared Amelie and she just got here today!”

“She ate Tracer’s carrot cake!” Hana pouted.  

It was both adorable and scary.

“Let her go, Lucio.  I provoked her.” Amelie said as she regained her feet.

“Cake thief!” Hana snapped as Lucio set her down gently.

Amelie translated.  Cake = Lucio and Hana was giving her a hands off ultimatum.

“Cake is better when shared.” the sniper said with a sly smirk.

Hana bounced in place not attacking but the look in her eyes was murder.  

“I don’t like to share!” the small Korean girl all but growled.

“Sometimes you don’t have a choice.” Amelie countered, “Sometimes it’s shared cake or no cake at all.”

“Man… you both are too much into cake.  Listen, you both are probably just hungry.  Let’s go to the commissary together and we’ll all have cake, okay?  Or maybe pie?” Lucio reached out to take each of them by the hand, “No need to fight over sweets, there is plenty to go around.”

The Brazilian DJ half led, half dragged them both to the hallway.  

Amelie let herself be led.  She was still hungry. The hours of dancing with Lucio had burned the energy from her waffle pbj, but at least she hadn’t needed a healing pack.  

Hana had calmed down by the time they reached the communal eating area.

“Tango?  You were dancing together?”

“Yeah.  What else do you think we were doing?  With all our clothes on?” Lucio drawled with a snicker.  “I’m good, but seducing the INFAMOUS Widomaker on the first day, good?!  That games out of my league. Honestly Hana, she’s beautiful, a great dancer, but I like my excitement in small bursts, if you catch my drift.”

Hana Song was red as a tomato by the time they were going through the food line.  Amelie watched with amusement as the small Korean girl almost blindly grabbed a strawberry soy milk, a small pork cutlet on a bed of plain rice and despite the talk of cake, a tapioca pudding.  

The French sniper chose a few strips of beef cooked fajita style with onions and peppers, with a red beans and rice side, and some apple juice.  For dessert she chose a light and fluffy whipped cream and fruit parfait that was interlaced with ladies fingers soaked in something that tasted of honey wine.  She also took a small bowl of cheese cubes and crackers she planned on sneaking away as a snack for later.

Lucio had taken some cold cuts and cheese with a fruit salad and a ball of what appeared to be cooked chocolate.

“Brigadeiro.” Lucio grabbed one for Hana and Amelie as well, “One of the best things from Brazil.  Trust me, you will like these. One of the cooks is from Rocinha, a favela in Rio, and he makes food that will make you cry tears of joy.  My gramgram, my mother’s mother, she also lives in Rocinha. I stayed with her more than my time with either my mother or father combined.”

“I am sorry about the jelly.” Amelie apologized, “I was just so hungry.  I’ll get you a new peanut butter too, when I can.”

“Oh, just the jelly was mine.” Lucio dismissed the event, “And I’ll write home to gramgrams.  She makes her jelly once a year. Grams grows her own peppers. The jelly only goes to family.  Her secret recipe. If we’re lucky, we’ll have more jars at Christmas. I have no clue who the peanut butter belongs to.”

“You have to ask?” Hana sniffed, “It’s **_peanut butter_ ** , duh!”

“Winston.” Lucio and Hana spoke in synch as they looked at Amelie, who was dutifully tucking away her food.

“The monkey?” she asked around her mouthful of marinated onions and peppers.

“Shhhhh…!!!” Hana hushed her, “Gorillas are not monkeys!  I think you can call him an ape. Calling him a monkey is racist”

“Speciest.” Lucio corrected her as he nibbled his chocolate, enjoying the rich fudge like taste.

“Whatever.” Hana shrugged, completely over her mad now, as if it had never occurred, “So, who are you sleeping with on Angela’s team?”

“Hana!” Lucio’s shocked face made the small Korean girl giggle.

“Just Jesse so far.  I’m hoping to work my way through the others soon though.” Amelie replied dead pan, “With luck, I’ll have banged all of Overwatch in a month or two.  Should I pencil you and Lucio in for sometime this week?”

It was worth it for Hana’s spit take.  Fortunately she’d only taken a small sip of her soy milk.  Lucio manfully tried tried to cough out his reaction, having swallowed a bite of his chocolate down his air pipe.

Amelie continued to eat without missing a beat.

“You nailed McCree?!” Hana wheezed while trying to clean her mess with her napkin.

“Have the sex tape to prove it.  Or, rather, Angela does. Did you know there are security cameras in the firing range rooms?” the sniper kept eating while Lucio face palmed and Hana began bouncing so quickly she nearly vibrated out of her chair

“You and McCree are **_together!_ **?!”

“Now not so much,” Amelie sighed with genuine saddness, “Angela says Talon put kill switches in me that are triggered by either agreeing to sex or having sex.  Jesse isn’t going to have sex with me now.”

“TALON KILLS YOU FOR HAVING SEX?!?!” Hana shouted out, standing straight up and crushing her soy milk container in one hand, splattering droplets out in a wet burst.

Lucio studiously looked away muttering, “I don’t know her.  I just happened to be sitting here…”

The commisary had gone quiet as all eyes were arrowed in on Hana and Amelie.  A beat of silence. Then everyone went about their business as usual. Apparently outbursts like this were not that uncommon.  Or maybe it was just Hana.

“Ewwwwww…” Hana Song looked at the remains of her soy milk and her spattered, cute summer cami, “I just made this outfit!

... to be continued


	11. Part 2 Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amelie gets clothes

**Prisoner of Peace**

**Part 2 Chapter 11**

An Overwatch Fan Fiction

By Mooncatx  _ The Bliss Crimson _

**Amelie LaCroix - Widowmaker**

 

“I’m jealous,” Amelie commented, “I don’t have any clothes of my own right now. Angela stripped me bare when they captured me.  I don’t have a stitch to my name. I’m wearing Angela’s cast offs for now, but I’d rather have my own clothes.”

“Oh… “ Hana had already forgotten about her soy milk explosion, “No one’s taken you to resources yet?”

Grabbing Amelie by the wrist, Hana dragged the taller, but less hyper woman along.  Lucio trailed behind with a sigh.

Hana did make a ladies room break to clean up, but then continued to hurry Amelie towards destination unknown.  The former Talon agent was just glad she’d managed to finish her food before hurricane Hana dragged her through what appeared to be stock material store rooms.  Rooms full of electronics, bulk food containers, and a mystifying assortment of materials and oddities. She had no idea why some of what she saw was in storage at the Watch Point HQ.  When she asked about it, Hana shrugged.

“We don’t know what we might need, so we try and keep whatever comes our way on hand.  We may be cramped for living space, with proper utilities, but we have a ton of empty caverns to use as plain storage.  A lot of people have their stuff stashed here, because we have no other permanent address.”

Hana pointed to sealed, private storage cubes off to one side, before stopping by a one a bit larger than the others.

“I have all my cosplay supplies in this storage cube here.  Lucio and I are also celebrities, so besides endorsement swag, fans are always sending us stuff. We keep a lot of it here too. Not all the stuff people send us make any sense, but we tend to keep it anyway. We become packrats, sorta, but not in a messy way.”

Hana pulled Amelie to the center of the room and put her on what appeared to be a sensor pad.

“We catalog and have a database of what is here, just in case we  **_do_ ** need it.  It doesn't quite make us hoarders, but…”, Hana stopped gestured at the variety of materials of her cube.  It was considerably more equipped than most of the others, there was electricity, lights strung over head had lit up as Hana entered.  A utility sink in one corner, a long work table prominent on one side of the room, covered with sewing equipment. 

“I'm diversifying and expanding my brand. I can’t be a gaming wunderkind forever.”

Amelie was impressed.  While Hana Song might project a simple, vapid, bubblehead persona, she was in reality a sharp businesswoman, self-aware and ambitious.  A dangerous animal  camouflaged in cute.  She would keep this in mind.

“I cosplay, design, plus I'm constantly needing to tailor the outfits I buy.  Western fashion does not cater to a petite adult. I can’t dress like a 12-year-old  **_all_ ** the time.  I’m actually 19 effing years old, but once people see how tiny and cute I am, they don’t take me seriously unless I have a gun or giant meka to back me up.  Out of battle, when I’m not promoting Overwatch or my personal brand, ’m constantly fighting my cute little girl image.”

“I thought you liked your cute little girl image.” Lucio commented surprised.

“I do!  Sometimes.  It’s my public  _ trademark _ , ™, persona.  I have a ton of marketing built around it.  Despite all that, I  **_am_ ** an adult.  There’s a lot I’m prepared to sacrifice to live this carefree, cute acting girl lifestyle, but there are some times I  **_do_ ** want to be the adult I really am.” 

Hana was the same bubbly girl they’d walked in with, but her unexpectedly mature attitude suddenly made her seem achingly older.

“It’s not all going to last forever.  For an unaugmented human, there’s a hella high mortality rate as a field operative, every year I grow older is diminishing my reflexes, I’ll be lucky if I last a decade before being forced to retire my meka, if injury or death don’t make it game over earlier.  But if I play my cards right, make hay while the sun shines, I’ll go out on a golden parachute with my investments providing for my old age.”

“Yeah, you’ll be 30.  Soooo ancient!” Lucio teased.

“I’m over 30.” Amelie sighed, “I’m doomed.”

“Totally different!” Hana bounced in place, not realizing how cute and hyper she looked, “People like you, Mercy, Mei, and Tracer, the weirdness LIKES you.  Sure, your lives are like a tragic holo novela, but in your pain and suffering, you’ve been granted what looks like the fountain of youth. None of you look more than mid 20s, and you aren’t likely to age half as fast as the rest of us.  Talon did freaky deaky stuff to you, Angela probably made a deal with the devil, and Mei… 

Well Mei is just too tragic, but she’s a top world level scientist and she could pass for a teen in a heartbeat.  All cute, chubby, flawless baby skin and boobs you could land air carriers on! I’m not kidding, every straight man here has had a fantasy at some point of time of riding to paradise between those soft fleshy thighs of hers! Hell, even the straight girls wonder what a soft curvy armful she’d be in the sack!”

“Uh…  Hana… TMI?” Lucio put his hands over his eyes and pretended no one could see him if he could see them back.  

“Anyhoos…  I’m not a physical brick like Reinhardt and Zarya, or a desert hardened commando like Ana and Fareeha.  Or unstuck in time like Tracer, or a Super soldier like Commander Morrison. If I don’t get maimed and mangled, I got maybe a decade to make my mark and make it count!”

Hana smiled, her face a shining glow of youth, her gleaming white teeth a trademark perfect curve of happiness.  But Amelie could see the shadows in Hana’s eyes that most would miss.

“I won’t be the lightening fast reflex, video game goddess I am now for much longer.  Not unless something super weird happens to me too. And let’s face it, we are surrounded by lightning rods of fate.  The odds of some of the bolts they are drawing from the heavens missing and hitting a Cheetos and Mountain Dew girl like me are pretty slim.  I’m more likely to get hit by a Talon grunts lucky shot.”

“Don’t be that way Hana!  Maybe you’ll get captured by Talon and Moira will use you like a lab bunny.  Hell, she’d probably turn you into a RL bunnygirl! You could wind up a furry!  Think of the fur cons we could go to with the BEST costumes!”

“You just want to go as a frog!” Hana pouted, “That doesn’t count!  Frogs have no FUR!!!”

Hana pushed past the Brazilian DJ and opened a large wardrobe like piece of furniture by the wall.

“Here’s what I’m looking for!”

Hana’s attention was now focused on what seemed to be a forest of fabric bolts.  She reached in and pulled out a deep turquoise of some silken weave.

“Hmmmm… hmmm… “ Hana pulled out a variety of bolts and set them on the table before turning back to order Amelie, “Take off your clothes.”

Amelie began to strip out of her clothes.  Lucio gave a strangled squawk and turned his back to the two women who were now ignoring him.  Hana dropped cloth over Amelie and considered the contrast of colors. 

“Hmmmm… “ She made little noises as she tried different fabrics and colors.

Okay.  I’m going o measure you.  I can have a couple simple outfits by tonight.  We can’t have you running around nekkid, even if it might boost moral.”

Lucio coughed.

“Some short shorts. Skirts.  A few tunic tops or dresses. Easy Peasy!”

Amelie stood still, letting Hana play dress up with her.  It was calming to just let Hana move about, measuring her, draping more cloth on her bare skin.  She vaguely remembered something similar at Talon. More people. Less soothing. Pinches and pin pricks and unwanted touches,  Not nearly so nice. Hana sometimes petted or stroked the sniper, absently, as if soothing a restless horse. It was not uncomfortable.  

Normally, Amelie wasn’t touch friendly, except for after a kill, and even then she did not allow liberties from just anyone.  No need to encourage the teeming predators that populated Talon. Hana was very firm in her direction, but there was no vulgar, ulterior intent that would put Amelie on her guard.  She fell into an almost trance like doze as she allowed Hana to play with her like a fashion doll. Lucio had already fallen asleep in an almost boneless puddle on the floor.

Hana hadn’t been wasting time.  She dropped a carry sack in Amelie’s arms, and wagged a finger under the sniper’s nose.  

“Try these on!” the meka pilot ordered.

Somehow Amelie had missed the moment Hana had stitched together a good half dozen different outfits.  Simple tunics and short skirts in different, vibrant colors. Amelie slipped on a pretty rose and gold silk that fell just above her knee.

“Mmm… commando.  I appreciate your brass, LaCroix.” Hana was surveying her work, hands planted firmly on her hips, she was every inch, in command.  To think you’ve been running around Overwatch HQ with no panties.”

She handed the now dressed French woman a sash that Amelie tied around her waist, bringing the ensemble a sense of chic style.  A mummer of pleased appreciation escaped the sniper’s lips, and Hana smiled.

“If I hadn’t been so good at competitive gaming, I might have gone into fashion design as my career.” She offered with a rose blush to her cheeks.  Despite her seeming confidence, Hana was a bit shy about her personal details, “It looks good on you, doesn’t it.”

“It does.” Amelie gazed into the full length mirror that was on the inside door of the wardrobe.  She turned side to side, to take in the full effect. The simple design suited her, the fabric was so light, the hem just above the knee, but Hana had slit the sides high up, to the hip, and Amelie had full range of motion.  The former Talon agent could fight easily in the dress if she needed to. Amelie hummed her approval.

“Good thing you don’t wear panties, they’d show for sure.  I took that into account when I cut the slit so very high.” Hana commented, running a dainty fingertip teasingly up one slit, admiring how the soft and silky the blue skin beneath was.  

Amelie hummed in question, eyebrow raised.  Now that her work was done, Hana’s professional detachment had fallen away, and the devil danced in her eyes.  The French woman noted the flirty and sighed. Hana flashed a grin.

“There’s one last thing.  The finishing piece!” the young meka pilot dipped her hand into the carry sack and retrieved a pair of cork soled sandals.  She’d used the 3D printer, set to Amelie’s bare feet that still rested on the sensor pad. It had been easy to extrude the sandal soles and then thread them with matching ribbons for the outfits for a bit of color, and to tie the outfit together as a set.  Amelie took them eyes wide.

“You are so skilled!” she exclaimed.  Hands holding up the sandals, the former Talon agent was deeply impressed.  She’d never made shoes, and these were so cute! She bent to slip on the sandals, lacing up the ribbons in a criss cross pattern around ankles and calves, tying them up beneath the knee.   **_Très chic_ ** !”

Giving into an impulse, Amelie did a little spin.  The outfit made her feel happy in a way she’d nearly forgotten.  The simple joy of a pretty outfit that flattered her, with no other purpose than to be pretty.  Leaning down, she pressed a soft kiss to Hana’s mouth. “Très bien Merci!”

Hana felt the blood rush to her face.  She was a cherry blossom pink, and knew it.  

“Oh come on!  No more kissing wars!” Lucio half joked as he got up, yawning and stretching.

Despite what Lucio said, the kiss had been different than what she’d done with Amelie before.  More intimate, and personal… sweeter. 

 

To be continued


	12. Part 2 Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amelie does chores and has breakfast.

**Prisoner of Peace**

**Part 2 Chapter 12**

An Overwatch Fan Fiction

By Mooncatx _The Bliss Crimson_

**Amelie LaCroix - Widowmaker**

 

Hana smiled, the expression lighting up her face.  Lucio was still blinking sleep out of his eyes, and staring at Amelie.  Slowly appreciation filled his dark eyes as the sniper did a twirl to show off the Korean girl’s handiwork.

“ _Você é muito linda_ ” Lucio complimented both the woman and the dress, both beautiful, “Nice work, Hana!”

He turned to the designer, who was still blushing.  His genuine enthusiasm unmistakable as he took her hands in his, “You totally need to include this style in your signature line.  Simple, yet elegant. Colorful and vibrant. LaCroix should model for you. She has that long leggy look that makes clothes pop! If I met a pretty girl in such a lovely dress, I would definitely ask her to dance!  The side slits are perfect for movement! I want to see Amelie’s hips moving to the music in that dress!”

“ _Je vous remercie_ ” Amelie thanked the DJ, “I agree Hana, all of these clothes are lovely!  If I met a pretty girl in one of these dresses, I’d be tempted to ask her to dance as well!”

“Oh?” Hana tilted her head and considered, “I think maybe I should make myself a few new tunics.  I’m not sure I have the nerve to run around with no panties though.”

“... what?” Lucio asked, not sure he heard right.  He glanced down at Hana’s hips, what he was thinking about clear on his embarrassed face.

The smack of a small hand on a masculine cheek cracked through the room.  “Pervert!” Hana’s high voice echoed after.

***

Amelie woke slowly, yawning and stretching.  Blinking away the fuzzy feeling of just getting up.  She struggled out of the nest of blankets she’d fallen asleep in.  Angela’s bed was empty. The doctor no doubt was an early riser and had disappeared to her medical laboratory.  Either that or she just wanted to avoid spending time alone with Amelie, who had indeed spent the night on the floor.  At least the Overwatch Medic had made a pallet of comforters to cushion the hardwood floor. Amelie had slept on worse.  Stretching again, she evaluated the soreness she was experiencing. She’d exerted herself yesterday after days of enforced inactivity.  It would be awhile before she had a settled routine with Overwatch.

She began one of her normal pre breakfast stretching exercises.  Warming and loosening the ache slowly out of her muscles. She was used to doing a lot of physical activity when off mission.  In the quiet solitude of Angela’s rooms, she worked on stretches until she felt her body grow supple and ready. Normally she’d have a start of the day nutrition shake that her handler would provide, one calibrated for her individual metabolism and needs.  There was no one to care for her this way anymore. She would have to care for herself and her hunger, seek out nourishment. Alone.

She hadn’t heard from McCree since he’d left her at the gym.  Perhaps he was on mission. Perhaps he had other things on his schedule.  He was not her keeper. She had no reason to expect him to spend more time with her.  Angela had left no instructions the night before. Amelie wondered if the medic was still upset.  When Amelie had returned to Angela’s rooms the evening before, she had nothing better to do than trying to tidy up the chaos of the blonde’s living quarters.  

She started to put the piles of books in order by alphabetizing them by author, and reshelving them spine out.  Running out of shelf space, she’d put the remainder against a wall, in rows. Then she’d collected the clothes strewn about Angela’s rooms, putting the obviously used ones in a laundry pile, the ones she couldn’t tell in a separate pile next to the first, and the ones she thought were clean she folded neatly and stacked, shirts on shirts, pants on pants and so on.  By the time Angela returned in the late evening, everything was looking neat and tidy.

“What have you done?!” Angela’s voice did not convey pleasure.  In fact, the look on her face was of unpleasant surprise. Maybe mild horror.  

“I’ve brought some order to your chaos.” Amelie stated simply, “I can return it to the way it was if you prefer.”

“I… have a system.  No. Don’t touch _anything_ more.” Angela instructed.  

She sounded disturbed.  Frowning, now that she had returned and had to think about Amelie being there.  Flesh and blood rather than the abstract concept she’d just spent many hours on, developing a regimen of tests for.

“I’ll contact you tomorrow when I’m ready to begin your tolerance tests.” the doctor spoke with a cool, distant demeanor.  

Amelie stilled.  A glacial chill moved through her and her face lost expression.  At Talon, _tolerance tests_ did not mean good things.

“Tolerance Tests.” her voice matched Angela’s for arctic coolness.

“For your kill switch triggers.” Angela elaborated, seeing the sniper’s coldness as a defense mechanism.  She hadn’t meant to alarm the former Talon agent, “We know sex will trigger you. We need to gather more data on what points you are conditioned to react to by ceasing to function.  Such as, will kisses and cuddles be safe? Will certain acts set you off? What level of command or acquiescence will trigger you?”

Amelie relaxed a little, “Kisses?  Who will I be kissing?”

Angela looked unhappy as she poured over her daily messages on her digital slate.  “I sent out a general request for volunteers for physical tolerance testing. That was several hours ago and still no responses.  I’m hoping that by noon tomorrow we will have at least a couple of volunteers willing to participate.“

“If no one shows, will you be kissing me yourself?” Amelie asked, curious.

“No!” Angela snapped, her blue eyes glared into Amelie’s gold ones.  Almost against her will, her gaze dropped to the former Talon agent’s cupid bow mouth.  “As your doctor, it would be... inappropriate.”

“Then I have a few suggestions.  Lucio and D’va would participate, I think.  Maybe Brigitte?” Amelie offered.

“You understand that you will be _kissing_ these persons?” Angela’s expression was deep, dubious surprise, one eyebrow high with surprise, the other was narrowed in concern, “Why recommend these agents in particular?”

“They’ve all mentioned being willing to help.  The younger agents are more interested in testing limits.  Why not them?” Amelie replied,

“I’ll send them personal invites then.” Angela’s delicate fingertips flew over her data pad, “I have no objections if they are willing.  Anyone else?”

Amelie knew that Jack’s name would just deepen the frown on Angela’s face.  She doubted he’d stop at kisses even if he were to agree.

“Surprise me.” Amelie shrugged as she spoke, suddenly feeling tired, “Where will I sleep tonight?”

Angela’s eyes flicked to the bed, then away. “I’ll help make a place for you on the floor.”

***

Amelie went to get breakfast.  It was still early, but the commissary seemed to be doing a brisk traffic of people getting their morning meal, or for those just getting off shift a very late supper.  It wasn’t jam packed, but a great deal of the eating tables had occupants. Amelie hoped she could find a spot where she could put her back to the wall. She doubted an open attack, but it paid to be cautious.   Getting some yogurt and fruit, she searched for a place to sit.

“Murderer.”

It wasn’t shouted.  But the voice was clear and the word carried amid the hum and bustle of the breakfast crowd.  Amelie ignored it, face unreadable as she spotted what she was looking for. A seat where her back would not be exposed and give her a view of the exits.  It was beside the Swedish engineer, Torbjorn. He was Brigitte’s father. She approached and set her tray down next to his, noting his surprise, and frown.

“You are Brigitte’s father.  Reinhardt’s squire.” Amelie said as she slid into the seat next to Torbjorn.

“Yes!  Brigitte’s my daughter.” the Swedish engineer stated with obvious pride.

“She’s such an intelligent girl.” Amelie noted, “I would guess she get’s that from you?”

“Well… there is a lot of her mother in her too.” Torbjorn spoke thoughtfully, watching Amelie begin to eat her breakfast, “Why are you asking questions about my daughter?”

Amelie decided that telling the volatile man that she could be spending the afternoon making out with his daughter was not the smart move.  

“She may be helping me later as Angela works out the kill switches Talon programmed me with.” She worded it tactfully.  Not lies. Just, not mentioning how Brigitte could be helping in detail. After all, she might not even answer Angela’s invitation.

“Programmed…?” Torbjorn looked grim, but curious.  The’d all heard things through the grapevine. Nothing confirmed as yet, about Amelie LaCroix, the Widowmaker.

“Do you know what the greatest differences between sentient omnics and humans are?” Amelie asked, pausing between bites.

“What?” Torbjorn wasn’t sure where this was headed, but he set his shoulders.  As the mind behind the creation of the omnics, he’d felt a deep and abiding responsibility for the Omnic War.  For the death and carnage that followed in it’s wake.

“Omnics, as a whole, are more easily hacked.” Amelie placed her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands. “But humans are just biological machines with a wet ware cpu.  Put the unit into continuous situations of extreme... stress, it strips away the previous format, then you can over write their base programming, make them what you want them to be.  You can reprogram an omnic and make a nice law abiding citizen into a weapon of war.”

She noted the tightness in the bearded engineer’s mouth, his eyes had gone shuttered.

“Talon has the will and the means to remake human flesh and blood and the mind operating the body into weapons.  Only humans have a pesky quirk of… individuality. What we fear in the thinking machine, flesh or otherwise, the independence of thought.  Talon would wipe that out in the people they remake. After all, going to the trouble and expense to make a weapon of say, my caliber, can’t have it deciding to go off and exercise free will.  Should one of their human weapons slips the leash, fail safes are put into place. Talon has me set to die should I offer my skills to other parties without Talon’s control or permissions. Angela has offered to undo Talon’s kill switches in exchange for my alliance and service to her… to Overwatch.”

Torbjorn nodded slowly.  What the assassin spoke of was possible.  Unthinkable… for anyone but a terrorist organization like Talon.  

“So my Brigitte is going to help dismantle these switches!  My girl! She is going to be very useful. She’s always tinkering, and if anyone could tear down bad programming, she can do it!” Torbjorn was enthusiastic about his daughter’s participation.  He hoped Brigitte the best in the endeavor, “You won’t find a more fiercely passionate and dedicated girl than my Brigitte! She’ll go at it hammer and tongs! You’ll see!”

Amelie and Torbjorn finished the morning meal in companionable silence.  

To be continued.


	13. Doctor, Heal Thyself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela gets ready for Amelie's tests. Introspection.

**Prisoner of Peace**

**Part 2 Chapter 13**

An Overwatch Fan Fiction

By Mooncatx _The Bliss Crimson_

 

**Angela Ziegler - Mercy**

Angela tapped the hard light stylus against her cheek as she went over the format of her testing regime.  It was unusual to say the least. She hoped for an orderly, clinical evaluation. She didn’t think it would be, but she _hoped_.  She had decided to start out with consensual kissing for a specific amount of time, increasing duration and intimacy levels, to see if any kill switches triggered.  If not, moving on to actual commands to seduce, but not have intercourse, with the volunteers. Depending on how many volunteers showed up, and how far they were willing to go.  It could take all afternoon. She still was uneasy about how far might be needed to trip Amelie’s triggers.

She couldn’t very well ask anyone else to… have full intercourse with Amelie simply to test what would trigger her kill switch…  Angela felt her face beginning to burn. Amelie wouldn’t hesitate to complete this level of testing. McCree. no doubt. would be willing… Angela didn’t think she could blush any harder.  She was wrong. Going to the sink in the examination room, she turned on the cold water and splashed her face. Memories of the images caught on security feed from the biotic gun firing range played on constant loop in the back of her mind.  She was afraid they were burned into her brain. She’d excused having to rewatch the raw sexual activity as a medical necessity. A lie she’d clung to as she stared at the holovid while she planned her experiments. Amelie was so very _vocal_ during sex.  She’d made such... noise.

Angela had held off on watching the security feed of Commander Morrison and the former Talon agent.  Jack had it locked under the highest security protocols. But Angela had been his friend and co-worker for several years, and she had the security clearance to work around his protections.  She had steeled herself and spent her morning in her office with the doors locked, and watched it all. Shock did not even cover the feelings riven from her. She’d made herself view it in minute detail multiple times, and analyzed the… data.  

Covering her face with her hands, Angela faced an uncomfortable truth.  Jack’s actions… had been way beyond acceptable. But it wasn’t his roughness with Amelie, or his pleasure that disturbed her most.  It was how much Amelie’s tears and sobs had sent chills through her… and lit a warm, squirming feeling between her thighs. She wanted to refuse to acknowledge the wet heat that lay aching in her intimate core.  She couldn’t. She couldn’t block out the echoes of Amelie’s keening as Jack forced her to come while he savagely fucked her.

And the worst wasn’t that Angela wanted Jack to ravage herself the way he had the beautiful French sniper.  She didn’t. What was making her ache with want was Amelie’s purely sexual response to both Jesse McCree and Jack Morrison, completely uninhibited, unhindered by fear or doubt, or any form of self restraint.  Amelie LaCroix liked fucking. She liked being fucked. She liked it a lot. And deep down, Angela knew it would take only the invitation, and Amelie would be hers to fuck however well, or badly, she wanted. The moans of pleasure or pain could be for her instead of Jesse or Jack.  The memories of the sound of Amelie being rammed against the table as Jack drove into her like a… jackhammer.

She snorted a laugh and stifled the fit of hysteria that hovered just beyond the next breath..  Bad Angela. Bad…

In her mind’s theater, she saw and heard Amelie’s pleasure as Jesse poured that whiskey strong sensuality on her and into her, layered with her sobs and screams at Jack’s unapologetic sexual brutality and cruelty as he used her, burying himself to the hilt with that super soldier ramming force, her wails bleeding together into a song of sexual surrender, sexual fulfillment.  

Angela’s heated flush didn’t subside.  She had Amelie sleep on the floor the night before, after all that happened to the former Talon agent, because she was afraid to have the sensual, sexually alluring woman in her bed.  It would have been… unwise.

She had to keep things between them professional.  There were lines Doctor Angela Ziegler did NOT cross.  No matter how tempting.

As Overwatch Commander, Jack had made it clear from the start that Amelie LaCroix, the Widowmaker, was with them on a provisional.  The former Talon agent was under constant surveillance while at Overwatch Headquarters. She wasn’t going to be given her own private living quarters.  Angela had been volunteered before she’d even realized what had happened. For the forseeable they would be living together in close quarters. Angela was the one who was responsible for Amelie’s actions while she was with Overwatch.  It was up to her to make sure no one came to harm because she wanted to save a conditioned, Talon killer.

She could have an extra bed brought in… It would be such a very tight squeeze.  She slumped. No. She could let Amelie sleep with her… No. NO. no… Bad idea. Bad, bad BAD idea.

“Athena, where is Amelie LaCroix right now?” Angela asked the AI who was ever present in Overwatch’s Head Quarters.  

She had made it a habit to ask at least once an hour, since the incident with Jack.The AI was continuously tracking the former Talon agent since she first stepped foot at the Head Quarters.  Athena was the reason Amelie could wander _alone_ within Overwatch.

“Amelie LaCroix is in the commissary.  Alert. Possible physical mayhem and escalating personal interaction situation.  One of the persons on the Red List is in proximity with Amelie LaCroix, codename Widowmaker.”   

“Who!?” Angela asked sharply.

“Strike Force Commander Ana Amari.” Athena’s reply sent a cold bolt of dread through the doctor’s heart.  This could be bad. This could be very bad.

To be continued.


	14. No Shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amelie is introspective. Some allusion to past abuse.

**Prisoner of Peace**

**Part 2 Chapter 14**

An Overwatch Fan Fiction

By Mooncatx  _ The Bliss Crimson _

 

**Amelie LaCroix - Widowmaker**

 

Torbjorn had already left, and Amelie didn’t intend to linger long after finishing her own breakfast.  She’d gone back to food counter to get some oranges and apples for later snacks when the normal commissary chatter suddenly stilled.  She’d grown used to the hive like drone of the Overwatch communal eating area, the unexpected silence sent the fine hair on her neck on end, a tingle like a brush with static electricity hummed through her.  Turning carefully, she eyed the older woman who’d come up behind her. Ana’s hair had gone to a storm cloud grey, but was still thick, it’s length held back in a fat braid down the center of her back. Her weathered brown skin had wrinkled, crows feet at the edges of her eyes and the corners of her thin, Mona Lisa smile.  

A black eye patch stood out like a badge, a reminder of another time, an exchange of bullets and a life altering event for the Overwatch sniper.  Her remaining eye was fixed with laser like focus on the former Talon agent. To the casual viewer, she could be anyone’s grandmother. The strong matriarch of a healthy family line.  An errant thought crossed Amelie’s mind. She wondered if Ana wanted fat grand babies to dandle on her knee. Fareeha was not likely to carry on the family line anytime soon. Not that she was one to cast stones.  She was even more unlikely to bear any offspring herself. Amelie felt an unexpected pang of disappointment, that the Amari line would most likely end with Ana’s daughter, and she didn’t even know why it mattered.  It was not as if she had any great love for either woman. Not now. Not ever?

The whole commissary was watching the confrontation, expecting carnage.  How droll it would be to disappoint them. Amelie let a sweet smile curve her lips.  It didn't reach her eyes, but that wasn't the point. She tilted her head and waited for Ana to speak.

“So you've come to Overwatch.  Jack must be out of his mind. Angela I’d expect this of, the girl is a saint.  She’d try to reform the devil himself. Jack should know better. I expected him to have more sense.”

“ _Très vrai_ , Angela is determined to save me. She is very… _passionné_ … about it.  So much so, she convinced me to give Overwatch a chance.  As for Jack, you will have to ask him for his reasons. I'm sure he'll be thrilled that you question his judgment.” Amelie gave a Gaelic shrug, “Meanwhile, we are comrades in arms.  Won't you feel secure with me at your back?”

“As much as you will feel with me at yours.” Ana’s baring of teeth had little to do with smiling.

“Still bitter about the eye, Ana?  I was trying for a clean kill, so this was a disappointment for both of us.”

“No apologies, eh LaCroix?” Ana’s laugh was as harsh as a crow’s cry, “No remorse.  No Shame.”

“Shame?  That I missed the kill shot, _oui_.  Apologies?  You first. Or did I imagine your shooting me in the head before I returned fire?  It’s not my fault your aim was even worse than mine, and you did not murder me before I retaliated.  How strange you should expect apology from me defending myself from your attempt to kill me.”

Ana’s mouth opened, but no words followered.  Amelie took the opportunity to place her food tray in the drop off bin and exit the common eating area.  She headed towards Angela’s medical bay and laboratory. She set her shoulders back and made sure her stride was even and smooth.  Strength and indifference radiated off of her. Show no weakness. A lesson literally beaten into her. Yet still, she could feel a fine tremble shiver through her.  Some strange _mal à l'aise_ she could not define, had her in its grip.  A mix of denied adrenalin that soured her stomach, and a light threat of nausea.  

The ache she had stretched out earlier was back with a bite.  Stress and tension had made her muscles contract tight with the need to fight or flee.  It had cost her to play casual with Ana, but she did not think a fire fight in the commissary would have endeared her to either Angela or Jack.  Too many potential enemies that could easily become a mob, she could have gotten the better of a mostly civilian crowd, but she’d have to break a few of them, and no doubt would have been blamed for any fatalities.  

She concentrated on showing nothing but cool disdain.  Never show what’s inside when an enemy could use it to harm you.  Ana was an enemy. She had never been anything else. Even when Gerard had been alive.  The few times they’d crossed paths since then had only deepened the feeling of antipathy between them.  Amelie was fairly certain Ana had been having an affair with Gerard before he’d married. It mattered not, save he had a lingering fondness for his co-worker,   He valued the Strike Commander’s opinion, and she had urged him not to marry. Ana Amari had not thought the ballerina bride good enough for Gerard LaCroix.

So, Ana Amari had the gall to think she was owed an apology?  Shame? The bitch had taken the first shot. Sheer luck had her bullet’s strike deflected by Amelie’s tactical visor.  If not for a quirk of fate Amelie would have been lying dead in a pool of blood and brains, and Ana would simply have congratulated herself for a job well done.  Amelie hadn’t wasted her moment of fortune, and quickly returned fire, taking the kill shot both for self defense, and retaliation. Ana had gone down. Victory… of sorts.  Fate favored the elder Amari that day, by taking an eye in exchange for her life. And now that she wasn’t playing dead anymore, Ana was milking the drama of losing her eye to Talon’s premiere sniper for all she could get.   _Merde._

It was the 2070s, not the 1970s.  It was only the harridan’s contrary nature that kept an eyepatch over Ana’s empty socket, when modern medicine and science could have a working replacement instead.  

Reaching the same medical laboratory as the day before, Amelie paused.  It was still early. Angela had said they’d begin testing in the afternoon.  No matter. Angela could stand her company a little earlier than planned. Amelie knew how to be quiet and unnoticed.  It was a talent she had long before it became part of her sniper’s _répertoire_.  On mission, she could sink into an almost trance like state.  Aware of her surroundings and blending into them. She remembered using the talent as a small child, when Maman was in one of her moods.   _Quiet Amelie.  Oh so quiet. Still as a mouse._

When she was older, and able to escape outside, and find some deserted place to practice her dancing.  Even as a child she had known the driving desire to become a ballerina. She would lose herself in the practice.  It was her obsession, to obtain the pure freedom of dance… to become like the Swan Princess… _to have the wings to fly away._ Much as she loved her Papa, Amelie knew he was blind to Maman’s faults.  He was large, and strong, and Maman restrained herself in his presence. Amelie had known even in her tender years that she would not be small and vulnerable forever.  Someday the girl would become a woman, and she would be _strong_ , and she would learn to fly.  So she had endured. She had danced.  And she had married a strong man, as handsome as her Papa, and as brave.  And almost as great a shot.

Papa had taught Amelie the lessons that had stood her the greatest good.  How to shoot. How to kill. And that blood washed away. When Talon took her…  Perhaps Maman had taught Amelie something useful in her own way. How to take a blow.  How to hide part of herself away, to be an anchor for all the little pieces that shattered and fell.  They might not fit back together quite the same way, but at least they were not lost. She had not been alone in the project that created her.  The others hadn’t know how to keep their broken selves from being scattered, forever lost. The Talon scientists had been genius, and they had been very very stupid.  

They had thought it was their program that made Widowmaker the premiere assassin that she was.  She wouldn’t be the one to correct them, that she was the singular person known as Widowmaker _despite_ their constant shattering of her in flesh, mind and soul.  Not because of them. She had broken, as they all had broken.  Talon had no qualms about tearing Amelie LaCroix apart, and then rebuilding her.  So much pain. Like dying. Like living. Like dying again, and again, and again. Even at her most numb, there was an enduring, hidden hope for freedom.

Angela had made her promises.  Amelie feared the good doctor might be planning to tear Widowmaker apart in her bid free Amelie from Talon.  But what choice did she have? Even though she loved the kill, and had proven herself to Talon time after countless time…  It was inevitable that Talon would consider her obsolete. As Hana had said only the day before, Each year of wear and tear would lead to an eventual retirement.  Only with Talon, as property, her eventual departure from the field was not the sunny golden parachute that Hana was preparing for herself. No.

Talon had her for nearly a decade already.  She’d failed her recent mission to eliminate Volskaya in Russia, and retrieving the Doomfist Gauntlet.   Her success with the assassination of Tekhartha Mondatta had been a saving grace.  But such a respite would only carry so far.  She did not doubt Talon had her replacements already waiting in the wings.  Perhaps not so good a shot as she was, but… younger and eager to prove themselves.  The project that birthed her had no other successes. The next wave of assassins Talon produced would be from newer, different programs.  Moira would make them stronger, faster, if not more talented. If they gave Moira control of the building new assassins, they would be formidable.  She wouldn’t make the mistakes as the team that had made Widowmaker.

_“Butchers.” the red haired scientist had scoffed, “They shouldn’t have been allowed to work on a titmouse, much less human beings.”_

Moira… the cool caress of her hands…  Amelie closed the door of memory and opened the one to Angela’s examination room, blinking in surprise as the blonde doctor all but spilled through the doorway.  

“You’re here!?” Angela spoke with surprise, her voice gone high and breathy, the swiss accent an enticing effect.

Suddenly all other thoughts fell away from Amelie’s mind.  Angela’s color was high, a deep rosy glow. Hmmm… What _had_ the good doctor been doing before Amelie’s arrival?  She watched as Angela’s sky blue eyes darted about, the burn of color in her cheeks deepening as she tried to find a safe place to fix her gaze.  Anywhere other than meeting the curious golden eyes now focused on Angela’s obvious blush.

Amelie felt a smile tug her lips.  So the doctor was thinking about _her_.  Perhaps she was sorry that Amelie had spent the night on the floor.  Remembering that she needed to be patient with the doctor, Amelie kept her voice neutral.  

“ _Mon Ange_ , where is the fire? Amelie asked,

To be continued


	15. Part 2 Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little tease time. Almost time for kisses! For Science! No, really. It's mixed perspective of both Amelie LaCroix = Widowmaker and Angela Ziegler - Mercy

**Prisoner of Peace**

**Part 2 Chapter 15**

An Overwatch Fan Fiction

By Mooncatx  _ The Bliss Crimson _

 

**Angela Ziegler - Mercy**

**Amelie LaCroix - Widowmaker**

 

Athena’s warning was obviously lagging. Fortunately it seemed the encounter with Ana Amari hadn’t blown up to a violent or lethal event.  Angela was relieved… and concerned. Amelie was quietly sitting in the chair for visitors, in front of Angela’s office desk. She was just sitting there, saying nothing except when addressed.  Where was the sarcasm and provocative comments? Had the run in with Ana caused this?

“Were you disturbed by you confrontation with Strike Commander Amari?” Angela probed.

“Non.” Amelie answered, “She was as expected, annoyingly self involved.”

“Self... involved?” Angela wasn’t sure what to make of the answer, “How so?”

“She indicated that I should apologize to her and feel shame for my actions.” Amelie shrugged, “She only sees the encounter where I shot her eye out as it relates to her.  In her mind, it’s all about her loss, her failure to kill me before I could retaliate. She disregards the other person in the exchange and her own culpability in shooting me first.  If you shoot me in the head, of course I’m going to fire back! I’m going to take out anyone shooting me if I can, with a head shot if possible. Oh it is embarrassing that my shot  **_only_ ** took out her eye… But beyond that?  It’s all on her. She could even have a new eye put in.  The fact Ana Amari would rather prance around with an eyepatch is just drama.  What is she? Sixteen? She is… what is that term...emo!”

Angela choked, turning it into a cough she covered her mouth with her hand. Of all the terms she’d heard Ana Amari pinned with,  **_emo_ ** had not been one.

“I see.” Angela said as she put her holo screens in order for the coming tests. “So you do not foresee any difficulty working with Ana Amari on your end?”

 “ _Non_. I am a professional. I will work with whomever I’m assigned, as long as they are being professional as well.” Amelie didn’t add, she’d work with people who weren’t professional as well, she simply didn’t have a choice. She was ordered, she worked. Otherwise Reaper and herself would not be stuck with Sombra so often.  

Amelie stifled a sigh.  She was getting bored. Somehow her ability to let herself tune out her surroundings while being aware enough to focus on her sniping as she waited was failing her. Instead, she was focusing on the blonde, Swiss doctor rather more than she anticipated.  Right now she was noticing the scent of the soap Angela had washed with. Instead of something insipidly floral, and perfumed, the doctor smelled like bergamot sage and oatmeal. It made Amelie’s mouth water. She hadn’t gotten her fruit after all, and her helping of yogurt wasn’t keeping her satisfied. She realized her small, light breakfast was a mistake, but she didn’t want to return to the commissary either. Why did the doctor have to smell good enough to eat?

Amelie tried to focus her attention on Angela’s other facets. She was dressed rather dowdy, in loose black slacks and a nondescript dress shirt in an off ivory. Angela had a nice chest, but her shirt seemed to deliberately minimize her femininity. The cut tried to make the body it covered seem shapeless. If it had been on purpose, it was failing. It would take more than a baggy shirt to make Angela Ziegler seem to be anything but the beautiful, well endowed, blue-eyed, blonde that she was. Amelie wondered if the doctor dressed this way to keep from being hit on constantly by her patients and co-workers. She was a prize after all. Ferociously intelligent, and by the body of her work, innovative and willing to work outside the box. Talon had a huge bonus for the capture or recruitment of the good doctor.  

She wondered if Angela knew the price she’d fetch, as more than Talon considered her to be extremely valuable asset. Idly, Amelie decided to not bring it up. Angela seemed disturbed even though she strove not to show it. Today was only to be kissing, if even this little display of intimate contact ruffled Angela’s feathers…well, Amelie did like a challenge, but this might be more challenging than normal. Angela thought just kissing was inappropriate…hmmm that was very telling. She must see Jack’s interaction with Amelie as terribly shocking.

“Do you think we should invite Jack to the kissing party?” she asked, just to provoke a reaction. Angela didn’t disappoint. Her face flamed, as if Amelie had struck a match and dropped it in dry tender.

“No.” Angela’s response was curt, her eyes a blue storm of passion.

“What about for the fu…” Amelie didn’t even get to finish her question, as Angela slammed a hand down on her desk, her expression grim. “ _ Non _ ?” Amelie wore her most innocent look. From Angela’s glare, it was not innocent enough. 

“I liked it better when you were unusually quiet.” Angela’s voice was foreboding. 

“But  _ mon ange _ , quiet is my usual nature. It is unusual for me to be so...chatty.” Amelie admitted, her brow knitted in thought. It was true. She did not normally engage in conversation. There was something about the Overwatch agents that...drew her out of her solitary nature. Before, in Talon, the few people she had more than necessary conversation with numbered all of two; Reaper and Sombra, and even then, it was normally Sombra that talked while they listened. 

Sombra couldn’t help herself. She talked and talked, to the point Reaper had tried to smother her with a sofa cushion. Amelie had never heard of someone be so articulate through several inches of cotton batting before. 

Sombra had skills. Mad, scary skills. Amelie often pretended to ignore her, trying to see if she would run out of steam. So far, no. Sombra was like the bunny in the commercials. She kept going and going.

“Command me, and I will be silent,  _ mon docteur _ ”

Angela gave her a look. “Free will, Amelie LaCroix. Free. Will.”

“If you will not command me, how about...bribery?”

“Bribery?” Angela wasn’t sure she was hearing correctly. 

Amelie had learned from Sombra. If you wanted someone to do something for you, offer a treat. Sombra should be round as a ball with all the snacks and candy that Reaper and Amelie gave her for a little silence. But somehow Sombra stored the fat and energy in another dimension, ready to use it to fuel her rapid fire commentary, and extorting more treats from her “friends.”

“Bribe me!” Amelie made it a demand.

“With what?” Angela asked, wondering at the smug smile on Amelie’s face.

“Candy?” Amelie asked, partly serious, because her stomach was making demands.

“I don’t have candy.” Angela frowned. She had a quarter of a box of chocolate from Genji, but she’d finished it off while she’d been examining the security feeds the day before and earlier during the morning.

“Kisses.” Amelie spoke firmly. “Sweet ones, on the lips. The better the kiss, the more I’ll be quiet.”

Angela stared at the former Talon agent. She did not just demand kisses, did she?

“If you really want me to shut up, Angela Ziegler, you’ll give my mouth something better to do. Chalk it up as part of the testing. Bribe me with kisses. See if it triggers my kill switch. Come on,  _ mon ange _ . Put your money where your mouth is.” Amelie was practically taunting the blonde doctor. She tapped her lips with a fingertip, jutting out her plump bottom lip and catching it between her teeth. She even threw in some eyelash flutters.

“Come, Angela, kiss me until I’m speechless…” She paused, then added archly, “Unless...you don’t have it in you? You are just a really, awful, horrible kisser? It’s okay. I can understand that it’s hard to be good at  _ everything _ .” Amelie gave the insult the cherry on top with a contemptuous look of pity.

Angela pinched the bridge of her nose. She was NOT going to be baited into kissing Amelie LaCroix. She glanced over at the blue woman, her pouty lips making a kissy pucker.

It was fun to be a precocious brat. No wonder Sombra was one all the time. Amelie was going to re-evaluate the Latino hacker. She was genius-level smart, her hacking skills attested to that, perhaps Amelie’s had misjudged her as just a pain in the posterior. Maybe.

She didn’t think Angela was going to give in. Well, it had been worth a shot. Slowly, she licked her lips, letting out a sensuous sigh. 

Even if Angela wasn’t going to kiss her, she could still make the most of the situation. 

Angela’s flushed state, and the way her clear blue eyes fastened on Amelie’s mouth told a different story than the denials Angela voiced. The doctor wanted to kiss. It was in the hitch of her breath, the way her eyes hungered like a starved thing, devouring with her gaze what she refused to taste with her flesh.

If she kept teasing would it break through the doctor’s control? Would she snap like a taut wire suddenly cut?

Part of Amelie feared the doctor’s loss of control as much as she craved it. So many years of self-denial, suddenly freed. It could destroy her. 

It might be worth it. 

“Wouldn’t you like to kiss me,  _ mon ange _ ? See if you can shut me up, by kissing me so hard that I become pliant to your will? Press your body to mine, till I soften into submission? Caress me, savor the smoothness of my skin, bare and vulnerable to your desires?”

This wasn’t being patient. It was in fact the opposite of patient. 

Amelie felt like a horse with the bit between her teeth. Ready to run, she could feel it, that Angela wanted to give into her desires, she only needed an excuse.

She leaned forward, their lips were only a breath apart.

 

To be continued.


	16. Part 2 Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. Kinda.

**Prisoner of Peace**

**Part 2 Chapter 16**

An Overwatch Fan Fiction

By Mooncatx _The Bliss Crimson_

 

**Hana Song - D.Va**

 

"Ann-yeong-haseyo." Hana carolled as she strolled in, bobbing a bow to Doctor Ziegler out of respect.  

You could take the girl out of Korea, but you couldn’t take Korea out of the girl.  Even if her friends and family thought Hana was terribly Westernized, for all her time abroad as both a Meka pilot and an international celebrity, and now a member of Overwatch, Hana had yet to get over her sense of awe for Angela Ziegler.  She’d learned about Dr. Ziegler in school as a small girl. That glorious blonde vision from her history holovids, too pretty, too young, too impossible to be a real flesh and blood woman. She’d thought maybe Dr. Ziegler might be fictional.  It wasn’t unknown for the Propaganda department of world powers to create heroic personas to play as political idols of the state. Hell, as a Meka pilot, Hana sometimes lost track of the Official Lie and the real unvarnished truth. But since the renowned Dr. Ziegler was part of Overwatch, which was beyond a single government’s control, she’d allowed herself to believe.  

She’d been beyond words when she got the call.  Overwatch. The history vids hadn’t lied. Angela Ziegler was not only everything she’d read about, but more.  She could literally raise the dead. She’d seen it before her very eyes. Not a lie. Not a trick. She’d seen the holovid of Amelie’s beat down by Reinhardt and McCree.  It had been after mission, and Hana had felt slightly shocked they’d just smashed the living crap out of the unarmed woman, right in the middle of a crowded street. Sure she’d seen her teammates do worse.  Hana had her own impressive kill score. But always on mission, and never right in front of civilians. She had known instantly, the moment the word spread that Angela’s team had brought in the infamous Widowmaker, alive, that Dr. Ziegler had resurrected the fallen foe.  

D.va could see why Amelie LaCroix would be looking at Angela with that hunger in her golden eyes.  The meka pilot also had to admit, the Widowmaker was a total, drop dead, gorgeous woman. Who wouldn’t want to kiss her?  So, walking in and seeing them just about to lock lips did not surprise Hana Song the least little bit. She winced inside, but carried on as if she’d noticed nothing.  That she had not cock blocked the hottest pairing she could think of at the moment. Hana felt her blood heat, and prayed she was not blushing. The sudden familiar rush of air behind her heralded Lucio’s sudden arrival, and Hana gave a silent thank you to the powers that be.

“Bom dia, beautiful ladies!” Lucio let the music he always carried with him flash out, his personal sound track that alerted those around him that Lucio was in the house.

He had a box of those delicious chocolate balls he’d introduced them to the other day.  Bonus!

“Lucio!” Hana greeted him with a kiss on the cheek.  

His hum of appreciation warmed Hana from the inside out.  She felt his eyes roam over her, taking in the new outfit.

“I knew it would look good on you too.” Lucio spoke with a sigh, “I’d dance with you in a heartbeat.”

 

**Amelie LaCroix - Widowmaker**

 

“Me too.” Amelie had realized the moment she could have tasted Angela’s passion had passed.  She wasn’t mad. But the growing hunger inside of her roared in frustration. So close! But the rational part of her brain knew there would not be a lack of opportunities, not with Angela  sharing her living space. Patience. She could exercise patience. Not like she had a choice.

Amelie let her appreciation of Hana’s outfit shine in her eyes.  Hana had gone with a salmon pink tunic dress, cut daringly short, slits up each side with gold stitched, embroidered bunnies, Hana’s trademark, at the peak of each slit.  

“Panties?” Amelie teased, eyebrow arched and a half smile tugging at her lips.

“Wanna come over and find out?” Hana purred, vamping it up a little.  She liked how Amelie was looking at her. She struck a sex kitten pose, and felt the temperature rise for half the people in the room.  She felt giddy with delight. Amelie and Lucio had that _interested_ look that gave Hana Song butterflies in her gut, and a warm, wonderful feeling.  They were looking at her like she wanted them too. Like she was desirable, and not in an icky fanboy way.  Unlike her fanbase, who showered her with adulation, and to a degree, affection, the regard of Lucio and Amelie sparked a return of interest in a deeply visceral way.  She peeked over at Doctor Zieger, and winced inside at the narrow eyed glare the blonde woman was directing at her.

 

**Angela Ziegler - Mercy**

  


“Excuse me?” Angela’s tone was pure disapproval.

“I was just joking with Amelie.” Hana hastily explained, straightening into a more formal stance, cheeks going rosy, “A dress design in joke.”

Angela took note of the similarity of dress between Hana and Amelie.  She'd realized Amelie was wearing a new outfit, but missed the ramifications.  Now it occurred to her how quickly Amelie was making friends. Maybe more than friends?  She had been so close to kissing that blue skinned, Talon tease. Maybe Jack was right. Widowmaker was an invitation to sin.  That didn’t excuse Jack’s actions, but Angela felt sympathy for the older, grizzled soldier. If she had a cock doing her thinking like Jack or Jesse, maybe she’d have _already_ given into temptation.  Angela knew she should be grateful to young Hana Song for interrupting.  She should... but instead she felt a searing sense of annoyance instead. The blonde doctor pressed her lips together briefly, before she smoothed her expression to her professional neutral face.  Amelie’s provocative nature was going to be trouble.

Angela knew it in her blood and bones, that the assassin wanted to seduce her.  She could almost taste the sweetness of Amelie’s breath on her lips. But this wasn’t… how did Jessie put it?  This wasn’t her first Rodeo. People, men and women, had been trying to get into Angela’s bed since she was 13 and just beginning to blossom.  But even when she was a young teen, the aspiring doctor knew that she didn’t have time, or really the inclination to get that intimate with anyone.  Not if she were to achieve her goals, her dreams… She would not have the mastery of the Biotic sciences, not if she’d have had to give up time and effort to maintain a romantic link.  The few times she had let her control slip, let someone into her life that seemed to have similar goals and could understand how her medical research would always come first…

She keep the shudder she felt from her outward composure.  Doctor O’Deorain had been an epic mistake. They had been so much alike.  Too alike. And too different where it counted. Moira was with Talon now.  Had been with Talon while Amelie was there… Angela didn’t want to think too closely to what Moira would do with someone like Amelie.   Someone so beautiful, so utterly vulnerable to the people who had control of her. Someone whose nature was so deeply sexual, yet from what Angela understood, so tortured that her sexuality was sublimated into merely being a tool, part of her arsenal as much as her Widow’s Kiss or grappling hook.  

The scarce and skimpy reports they had on Amelie LaCroix, the Widowmaker, didn’t indicate she had any kind of romantic bonds with anyone.  For all they had known, the Talon assassin was as asexual as a machine. Now Angela understood that with Talon, the assassin was having sex as ordered by her higher command.  It was her conditioned nature to… submit, to anyone who ranked her. It would be so unethical to have any sexual contact with her subject… her patient. And besides, Angela steeled herself to the task at hand, it wasn’t as if Amelie’s prurient interest was confined in any way to a single subject.  Not if the way she was eyeing the two younger Overwatch agents was any indication.

Especially Hana, the little, internet idiot… idol.  Angela worked at keeping her frown off her face. She was not the jealous type.  She. was. NOT. There was a perfectly good reason she wanted to throttle the bouncy and hyperactive fellow agent.  Angela just couldn’t think of it right at the moment. It startled her to realize Hana had been saying something while Angela was lost in thought.

“... is why I’m here for the tolerance tests!” Hana struck a pose, “I’m all about the challenge!  So, doctor, what is it? Strength? Endurance? Flexibility? You would not believe how bendy I am!  I have worked at gymnastics as part of my physical training since before I can even remember! Just let me know how you want me!”

Angela’s face was losing its battle with the blush that was warming her cheeks alarmingly.  

“Me too!” Lucio hip bumped Hana aside and posed, laughing, “Plus I brought treats!  Ladies, would you care to try my delicious goodies?”

“YES!” Amelie jumped out of her seat and reached out greedily, her tummy growling at the sight of the brigadeiros, “I love your chocolate balls, Lucio!  Abrigado”

“Awww… you are learning Portuguese, Amelie?” Lucio smiled like the sun and handed her a brigadeiro, “These treats are the least I can offer, after you got all hot and sweaty with me yesterday.”

“That was my pleasure.” Amelie took a little bite before continuing, letting out a little moan of delight.  “Just what I needed! Lucio, you satisfied my body in ways it has not been in a long while.”

Angela stared, and wondered if they were all deliberately trying to punk her.  

“Gruezi mitenand!”

Brigitte entered the room in a pair of denim coveralls, grease streaked as if she'd just come from an auto shop.  Hair up in a messy ponytail, she blinked at the small crowd gathering. She took one of the chocolate balls offered her with a bemused smile.

“I thought this was a test battery, but it feels like a party.  Should I have brought something to eat?”

“Yes.” Amelie spoke around the chocolate ball she was forcing herself to eat slowly.

“There is still time to get something and come back.  I will probably still be making out with these two by the time you return. “

“Say what now?!” Brigitte blurted, not sure she heard correctly.

“Fruit is fine.  Maybe something to drink.  It's ok, I'll eat anything. “ Amelie replied, “Maybe some bread and cheese.”

“Nano cola!  And chips!” Hana chimed in.

“Well, if we are ordering food, I guess a mixed snack platter.” Lucio rubbed his thumb under his bottom lip thoughtfully, “I'm fine with anything.”

Brigitte's mouth opened for a moment, then snapped shut.  She turned around and walked out. Amelie hoped she really was coming back with food.  The brigadieros was delicious, but only whetted her appetite.

“What's this about making out?” Hana asked, looking curious while eating her own chocolate treat, “Can't get enough of my sweet lips?”

“Angela wants to watch us make out.” Amelie replied, holding out her cupped hands for another treat.

Lucio’s eyebrows raised as he handed her another brigedeiros.

“Didn't think you were into that, Doctor Ziegler.  But hey, if it's okay with the girls, I am up for it.”

The Brazilian music idol struck a confident pose and grinned cheekily, “As a DJ, talented mouth, talented hands!”

“Shy, isn’t he?” Hana laughed, clapping her hands.

“I’m humble… “Lucio dropped his pose to eat his own brigedeiros, “About many things.  Kissing isn’t one of them.”

 

**Angela Ziegler - Mercy**

 

Angela wanted to face palm.  Her hopes of anything resembling a dignified medical experiment washed away in the giddy exchange of flirtation and general fooling around of the younger Overwatch agents.  She watched an unexpectedly gentle curve on Amelie’s expressive lips as the sniper observed the joking around. The former Talon agent was smiling, as she ate her second ball of chocolate.  

Angela reached out and took one of the treats from Lucio, curious.  It wasn’t Swiss chocolate. The rich fudge like chocolate dissolved in her mouth.  Mmm… but, not bad. Not bad at all.

Brigitte didn't take long in returning.  Pushing a familiar looking cart, this one bearing a selection of crackers, biscuits, sliced fruit, and cheeses, and a variety of cold cuts, as well as carafes of cold fruit juices.  There were some cans of nano cola per D.va’s request. Amelie was eyeing the full cart with almost indecent greed. Angela wondered if she needed to worry about the former assassin having a eating disorder.  She certainly wasn’t shy about food. Amelie was loading a piece of toasted bread with jam and cheese, topped with mixed slices of ham and turkey. A strange sort of sandwich. Lacroix was polishing it off with gusto, licking the remains of the jam off her fingers and mouth like a small child.  Angela shivered a little at the sucking sounds and the tiny sounds of delight the sniper made as Amelie took her time getting all the sweet sticky juices. Enough was enough.

“Once you are all finished having your _snack_ , we will start the testing.” Angela announced, voice clear and carrying, totally no nonsense.

“You mean the kissing?” Hana asked, around chugs of her nano cola.  

The Meka pilot figured she’d need the energy boost to keep her from passing out from excitement.  She hadn’t expected that the tests would be _physical contact_.  

“The _what again?_ ” Bridgitte asked, eyes narrowed suspiciously.  She’d thought they were trying to put one over on her earlier.  Was this all some sort of prank? She wouldn’t put it past her friends, Hana and Lucio, but she wouldn’t have expected the dignified Doctor Ziegler to be part of such a thing.

“The kissing.”  Angela wants to watch us making out.” Amelie spoke after swallowing a tart grape with a sigh.  As hungry as she had been, she was also quick to fill, and there wasn’t room for more than a few bites of fruit left.  Little, but frequent meals were her norm. Well, nutritional supplements, the rations her support team at Talon provided her with were nowhere near so nice as the lovely _real_ food Brigitte had brought.  

“She's pervy that way.” Amelie added seriously, golden eyes wide and earnest as she looked into Brigitte’s shocked aqua blue gaze, her voice dropping to a slightly scandalized whisper, “I’m pretty sure she was watching tapes of me having _sex_ earlier.”

_Angela face palmed_.

 

  
to be continued

so yes, kissing! no, not Angela and Amelie tho :( 

But, yeah, more smoochies. :D

  
  
  
  



	17. Shameless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela talks with the test subjects. This is a short chapter, just to get things moving during the holidays :)

**Prisoner of Peace**

**Part 2 Chapter 17**

An Overwatch Fan Fiction

By Mooncatx _The Bliss Crimson_

 

**Angela Ziegler - Mercy**

 

“This is a serious set of tests to get a baseline set of data.  Talon has set Kill Switch mechanisms in the psyche of agent Widowmaker.  She’s conditioned to expire in the event she consents to certain acts for any agency other than Talon.”  Angela spoke with a professional smoothness, looking at the four sets of eyes that were staring at her intently.  

“Like sex!” Hana interjects, bouncing in her seat.

Angela frowned, and continued with a grimmer tone, “Yes.  Like sex. Apparently the act of sex and killing are… similar for agent LaCroix.  Or that is our current theory. So far we’ve established acts of consensual intercourse will destabilize her to the point of imminent fatality.  Somehow, Talon has instilled physical and psychological triggers that induces what appears to be a state of neurological decline. I believe it’s a cascade effect that feeds into a downward spiral of biological system decline and ultimately death.”

The younger Overwatch agents seemed startled by the information, their eyes large and wide.  Angela had the errant thought of being stared at by baby owls.

“That’s… awful!” Brigitte exclaimed, horrified, “Is that why Jesse needed to shoot her with a biotic bullet after they did it in the Biotic Firing Range?!”

“... Yes.” Angela answered, while sending a sharp look at Amelie.  Did she have no sense of discretion? From Hana and Brigitte’s comments, everyone knew with who, where, and when Amelie had sex recently.  

“Do you really have sex holos of Amelie?” Hana blurted, face red, but eyes bright, “Are we going to get to watch them?  For like, the testing?”

“Why… “ Angela stopped herself from asking why Hana thought that would be part of the testing.  She didn’t want to know. Actually… she didn’t know for sure they wouldn’t need to see, if the testing went… further than kissing. “No.  At least not at this time. Today is just kissing."

Angela cleared her throat, and looked seriously at her volunteers.  “Now, I want to be clear. No one is being forced to participate. If the activities are… if the testing is not in your comfort level, you do not have to engage.”

Brigitte looked relieved, about to speak, until Hana practically jumped out of her seat, enthusiastically volunteering.

“Not a problem!  Who would pass up the chance to help save someone’s life with a little harmless kissing?  Not me!  I’ll kiss the daylights out of her!” Hana was practically cheering, hands held high above her head in victory fists.

“Now we’re talking!  Or kissing! I’m in. Who could let down a fellow Overwatch teammate?  I’d be happy to lend my soft, kissable lips to this noble endeavor.” Lucio smiled and stood, striking a cocky pose.  Both he and Hana looked over to Brigitte.

The Swedish girl gave a weak smile.  She was not so enthusiastic as her friends.  

“Um…”

“It’s okay, Ms Lindholme.” Amelie spoke softly, “No one will think less of you for not wanting to kiss me.”

The former Talon assassin smiled and gestured to the others, “With those two, I’ll probably be too worn out to kiss anyone else.  You can be… moral support.”

Brigitte gritted her teeth, she was not going to be the one left out.  She was not faint of heart!

Amelie could see what Brigitte was thinking.  She reached out, fingertips just grazing against the younger woman’s arm.  Brigitte flinched at the barely there touch.

“Just because your friends are doing something they are comfortable with, doesn’t mean you must follow.  Sometimes real courage is being true to who you are.”

Brigitte stared into the sniper’s golden eyes.  She saw something in the former Talon killer’s gaze she had not expected.  Compassion.

“I appreciate what you are saying… Amelie.”  Brigitte’s voice was soft, thoughtful. “Why not give me a breather to think it through.  I’ll watch the shameless ones make out with you first.”

The smile that stretched her lips was genuine as she turned and stuck her tongue out at Hana and Lucio.

“Heeeeey!” Hana exclaimed, “Who are you calling shameless?!”

Everyone _looked_ at Hana.

“Okay.  I’ll own that.” Hana shrugged, hands out, palms up.  “But, when you got all this? It’s hard to feel shame.”

The small Korean girl winked, and gave her trademark peace sign.  “Now are we going to suck face, or what?”

 

To be continued.


	18. Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, some kisses.

**Prisoner of Peace**

**Part 2 Chapter 18**

An Overwatch Fan Fiction

By Mooncatx _The Bliss Crimson_

**Hana Song - D.Va**

 

Lucio tapped the last Brigadeiros from the box into his hand and held it up between thumb and forefinger.

 

“Want some candy, little girl?” he teased, and popped the chocolate ball halfway into his mouth, holding it with his teeth.”

 

“Whoa!  Who said you got to go first?” Hana pouted.  

 

Lucio was obviously cheating, with his chocolate treat luring in Widowmaker as she approached him slowly.  Something feline in the graceful way she approached, golden eyes gleaming.

 

“You think that is all it takes?” The French in her voice was like a purr, rough with the edge of an amused growl, “A little chocolate in your mouth, and I’m melting in your hands?”

 

Lucio gave a cheeky wink, and fed some mood music through his personal speakers, and having previously synched with the base sound system, pushed it through the speakers in Angela Ziegler’s medical bay and office.  Light’s lowered and a soft, pulsing, cascade of color painted the room. Lucio was a portable dance party when he wanted to be.

 

Hana narrowed her eyes and stalked forward, arms sliding around Amelie from behind.  The smaller Korean girl pressed her slender frame flush against the French woman’s back.  Wow. She felt… nice. The ample curves of the former Talon agent’s bottom pressed to Hana’s stomach, and felt full, with an enticing give that made Hana’s hands want to sink into them and knead them like bread dough.  That probably would be something for a later date. Instead Hana let her hands slide over Widowmaker’s flat stomach, rubbing gently in circles, exploring the firm fitness of the other woman.

 

She felt a shudder run through Amelie, and then the older woman relaxed back into Hana’s embrace.  The meka pilot hummed, her cheek pressed against Amelie’s back, the vibration was pleasant, and the older woman turned in her arms, facing the girl with a curious look.  A slender blue hand reached to cup Hana’s chin, lifting the girl’s soft, pink glossed lips up towards Amelie’s dusky blue ones. It was a gentle kiss. Slow, tentative almost.  Hana tasted the tartness of grapes, and licked Amelie’s bottom lip, before nipping it playfully. Blue lips quirked into a smile and parted to let the delicate tip of Hana’s tongue flick inside.  Cool. Fresh. Tart. Hana savored the taste and feel of Amelie’s mouth, exploring with gentle, but focused intensity.

A hum built in the back of Hana’s throat, she was like a bee tasting an exotic bloom, she wanted to make this flower give up her nectar.  The kiss deepened and Hana heard an answering noise from French woman, approval, delight… desire. Hana felt a thrill chase through her. She could have this woman if she wanted.  She knew it in the heat of her blood that was beginning to pound in her veins. This was not the time or place. Not with Angela Ziegler looking on with death in her blue eyes. Hana didn’t have to look to know the good doctor was glaring at her.  Amelie was sweet to taste, ripe and ready as a juicy berry waiting to be plucked and devoured. Hana wasn’t sure if Angela had already tasted the forbidden fruit, but the good doctor’s loss could be the younger woman’s gain. Hana Song always played to win.  The gentle hum was growing to a more territorial, claiming growl. She felt Amelie shiver… and submit.

 

Damn.  If there weren’t so many eyes glued to them right now…  

  


**Angela Ziegler - Mercy**

 

Somehow the orderly collection of data that Angela had planned had gotten away from her.  The younger Overwatch members had just taken over the situation and had gone straight for engaging the former Talon agent in…  well Angela wasn’t really sure what they were engaging in. She had meant to have Amelie go through a series of kisses with each volunteer in a more sedate and controlled order.  This didn’t seem sedate or controlled. Angela would have interrupted, but … The whole point was to gather data on Amelie LaCroix and her thresholds in intimacy, to see where the kill switch triggers began.  This was actually not a bad beginning. So why did she want to throttle the little Korean girl so badly?

 

**Lúcio Correia dos Santos**

 

Lucio had slowly bit clean through his brigadeiros, his dark eyes gone wide and round as he sucked on the chocolate treat dissolving in his mouth while watching his best friend kissing the beautiful assassin.  It had been all jokes and giggles before, and his bravado had been masking a sense of nervous excitement. They were really doing this. Hana, was really doing this. The Brazilian DJ wasn’t sure what he felt, watching them kiss.  He’d seen girls make out before. Countless raves and club scenes, he’d seen pretty much every kind of pairing, in almost every level of intimacy. Music, intoxicants, the frenzied beating of a mob of hearts… people got wild and amourous and no few had invited Lucio to explore and experiment with them.  He hadn’t had a lack of lovers in his life.

 

But this was different.  This was Hana. Since coming to Overwatch she’d become his best friend.  A fellow celeb, she knew the world of fans and adulation and the joys and dangers of being the center of mass attention.  A fellow warrior of the people, she fought the good fight against oppression, against evil Something between them had just clicked the moment they met.  Not in a romantic way. He really hadn’t thought about Hana _that way_ for some reason.  But, watching her now with Amelie, all soft, and full of obvious interest.  Lucio felt a warmth in the pit of his stomach that fluttered like a swarm of butterflies, sinking lower with phantom wings exciting and heating the blood in his veins.

 

His music swirled in the background like a heartbeat, picking up the warmer tones of passion.  Synth licked out in siren caresses, soft and subtle, longing and inviting. Without conscious thought, Lucio crossed to the kissing women in a smooth glide, his hand smoothed away the blue black silk of Amelie’s hair, baring the clean, graceful line of her swan like neck.  So pretty. His lips grazed the surface, his breath a barely there stroke against her skin, then the hard sharp rasp of his teeth against the dipping curve where the shoulder began. He bit. Gently, firmly… He felt the shiver run through the beautiful, lithe form of the former ballerina.  Sweet whimpers fed from her mouth into Hana’s.

 

Half lidded, the warm brown of the Korean girl’s gaze peered up into Lucio’s own dark eyes.  Hana’s hands slid up into Amelie’s hair, curling into the high pony to tug with just a little roughness.  The French woman bucked between them with a needful noise. Kissing Hana back harder, hungrier.

 

**Brigitte Lindholm**

 

Brigitte stuffed her mouth with a small sandwich, to keep it from falling open in raw amazement.  Yes, all they were doing was kissing… She chewed with short, grinding bites, determined not to unwarrented comments.  The feeling of sensual intimacy and heat was ratcheting up almost exponentially. Her first thought was maybe she should sneak out now while everyone seemed occupied.  Hana and Lucio were focused with almost predatory intensity on the former assassin caught between them. Amelie LaCroix was quivering. Her soft blue skin was flushing with darker tones, golden eyes were almost hidden by her near closed eyes.  Her attention was clearly captivated by the two younger Overwatch agents now pressing close to her. Soft, surrendering sounds were coming from the one time Talon agent. Brigitte wondered how far Hana and Lucio were going to press the boundaries of merely… hah!  Merely? Kissing Amelie.

 

Brigitte’s gaze slid to Overwatch's chief medical officer, and the odd expression on her face.  Dr. Ziegler looked… well stunned. The blood had drained from her already pale face, making the doctor seem almost wraith like.  One hand was gripped around her hard light stylus, grinding the tip against her clipboard. Oh… that didn’t seem… good. She watch the doctor’s brow furrow, almost angrily as blue eyes glared at the trio making out in the center of the room.  For just a moment, Angela didn’t look professionally calm, the way she almost always was. She seemed shaken. Furious? Almost before her eyes though, Brigite saw Angela shudder, then an almost icy calm descend. Her face smoothed, and her stylus began moving, jerkily, as the doctor began taking notes, commentary a sub vocal whisper that Brigitte couldn’t make out the details.  Brigitte wasn’t sure what to make of it.

 

“That’s enough!” Angela’s normally melodious voice cut out like the sharp strike of a whip.

 

Brigitte’s gaze flew back to the three making out.  Lucio’s hands were sliding Amelie’s dress off her shoulders, kissing and biting his way down her arms, while Hana’s… um.  The Swedish girl blinked. She couldn’t see what Hana’s hand was doing, as it had slipped into the very high cut slit along the side of Amelie’s skirt.  But whatever she was doing was having a very distinct effect on the older French woman, whose hips were beginning to buck, and grind back into Lucio’s groin.  Brigitte was pretty sure it was a good thing Lucio wore his pants so loose.

 

Reluctantly, Hana drew back, away from Amelie.  Her fingers seemed to gleam wetly before the once hidden hand tucked behind Hana’s back.  

 

“Sorry.” Hana’s apology was a little breathless, “Hard to stay in easy mode sometimes.”

 

Lucio turned Amelie around, making sure the shaking, blue skinned assassin was okay.  Amelie’s arms twined around his neck and she sank against him, her lips sealing to his as she kissed him with a needy keen in the back of her throat.  For a moment, the surprised DJ kissed her back, firmly and deeply. But only for a moment, before he pushed her gently but firmly away.

 

“Desculpa, moça bonita…” He stroked his thumb against the side of her cheek, watching rational reasoning seep back into the luminous gold of her eyes.

 

“Brigitte, we’ll give Amelie a few moments to see if she suffers any ill effects from… kissing.” Doctor Ziegler’s words were clipped, “Then we’ll continue with you, if you are willing.”

 

Brigitte wanted to run.  There were undercurrents in the room that were kinda scary.  But her eyes went back to Amelie LaCroix, and saw… confusion?  She could sense vulnerability in the Talon assassin even though the French woman was clearly trying to seem calm and force a poker face back onto her delicate features.  She was failing miserably. Still flushed, the tremble in the delicate looking frame of her body touched something in Brigitte, as did the lost look in the golden eyes.

 

“Okay.  I’ll participate in the testing.” Brigitte’s voice was low and firm, surprising herself with it’s conviction.

 

Doctor Ziegler seemed surprised, but cooly nodded.  Amelie had turned away, and gone to the food cart pushed to the corner of the medical bay.  Graceful blue hands seized on a cup and poured tart fruit juice down her throat, cooling the burning sensation that was like a fever in Amelie’s blood.

 

Well.  So far no need for a healing pack.  

 

To be continued.

  
  
  
  


 


	19. Whuut?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brigitte's turn.

 

Prisoner of Peace  
Part 2 Chapter 19  
An Overwatch Fan Fiction  
By Mooncatx The Bliss Crimson  
  
Brigitte Lindholm

Brigitte wiped her hands on the legs of her coveralls and stood up, her stance one of quiet determination. If it were to be done, then best it be done quickly, and to the utmost of her ability. She walked over to the blue skinned woman who watched her with wary, golden eyes. Widowmaker would have seemed composed, stoic almost, with no readable expression on her face, but there was the most minute, betraying tremble of her lower lip, still soft and swollen from the kisses Hana and Lucio had, from Brigitte’s observation, enjoyed with the assassin. Despite her reputation of a worldly sophistication that rivaled her deadly skills, Amelie LaCroix had been curiously… shaken.

Something about those heated kisses had noticeably alarmed the former Talon agent. Brigitte didn’t know what, but she knew it was her duty to press onward, and discover what she could about the woman Reinhardt had warned her against, and yet was giving the benefit of the doubt to the extent that he was accepting, provisionally, into Overwatch’s ranks. His precious Overwatch, which because of his great love and respect for the organization, Brigitte had thrown herself into with her complete heart. It was her grave responsibility to protect them from the possible threat Widowmaker presented. To do so, Brigitte needed to understand the former Talon agent’s intentions. As well as her weaknesses, if need came that Brigitte would have to put Widowmaker down.

Brigitte knew her duty. Yet, her heart gave an odd stutter when she reached out to pull the more slender woman into her arms. The former ballerina had a delicate seeming body, and the more solidly built Brigitte was surprised to find she was taller than the other woman. A blush rose hot under her skin. She felt… oddly massive, next to the French woman. Not exactly hulking, but more like a lion with a gazelle. She felt the physical strength of herself with a heightened sensibility. Brigitte had the notion that if she pressed, the more tender woman would submit to her will, yield to whatever the younger, Swedish woman desired…

A small bleat escaped Widowmaker as without warning, Brigitte crushed the sniper against the smooth hard surface of the med bay wall. The younger woman kissed ruthlessly. The shield maiden kissed with a deep, steady strength that she put into everything she did, from wielding a blow torch in her workshop, to bashing in a weapon’s target, be it training dummy or Talon trooper. Instinctively Amelie squirmed, trying to escape by reflex, only to be denied as Brigitte’s strength easily subdued her. The former ballerina was strong. Far stronger than she looked even before Talon’s enhancements, Amelie was still no match for the younger woman, whose physical presence radiated pure, unadulterated health and power. The force of her kiss conquered.

Brigitte's tongue pressed into Widowmaker's mouth, sliding curiously against the agile strength of the other woman’s tongue. Amelie fought against the intimate invasion to no avail. Their duel came to an inevitable end with Brigitte claiming domination. Amelie pressed her hands to The younger woman's shoulders in an attempt to push back. Without even thinking, Brigitte captured the delicate blue wrists and pulled them high and tight to the wall, just above Widowmaker's head.

There were voices, sounds of vocal alarm… Brigitte was focused completely on the task at hand, she knew there were others in the room with them, but she didn't have attention to spare. All that mattered right now was the soft, slender body she was claiming, the wet submission of the mouth she was taking…

The short dress skirt with the interesting high side slits was riding up over Brigitte's denim clad knee as she pressed it between Widowmaker's soft, supple thighs. A growl rumbled deep in the younger woman's throat. Even through the thick, sturdy fabric of her work clothes, she felt the flood of wetness from Amelie's unprotected sex. No wonder Hana's hand had gleamed so provocatively. The wench was ripe for taking…

Pain! Then a bright flash of gold light that soothed the intense crack of force that left Brigitte's skull throbbing…

“whuuut…?” Brigitte's head felt like someone had used it for batting practice… “ooooooow!”

“I said enough!” Mercy's breath heaved in her chest as she tried to keep her voice within the scope of speech instead of a scream.

The doctor's cadaecus was glowing in her hands, held ready to smite again if needed.

“Angela?” Brigitte's disbelief was fathomless. Angela had struck her down?

to be continued

 

 


	20. Rewritten :  Dance With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the new chapter 20. The kissing scene with Mercy never happened! Tsk... but her loss... ?

Chapter 20 new version\

**Prisoner of Peace**

**Part 2 Chapter 20**

An Overwatch Fan Fiction

By Mooncatx _The Bliss Crimson_

  **Lúcio Correia dos Santos**

 

He switched tracks without even thinking, soothing tranquil trance flooding the room with healing vibes.  Lucio had used his Crossfade in combat countless times, this was the first time he was having to use it simply to calm things down inside of Overwatch HQ.  He saw Widowmaker pressed to the wall where Brigitte left her. The stricken look on her face quickly smoothed into her habitual calm mask, but he knew enough to see it was a mask.  He knew emotional pain when he saw it. While Angela and Brigitte were having words, with D.Va throwing in her two cents, the Brazillian DJ glided over to the former Talon agent and pressed his shoulder to her shoulder.  Startled she glanced at his face, then sighed and reached her hand to clasp his with hers. Lucio knew not to be grabby when someone else’s nerves were raw. While Amelie wasn’t showing it on her face, the tight grip of her slender hand let him know she needed an anchor, not a cage.

 “Let’s get some air.” He whispered in her ear, and nodded to the exit.   

 

**Amelie LaCroix - Widowmaker**

 

The others had forgotten about them for the moment, perhaps aided by the music as it swirled gently through the room.  They looked to be calming, but Amelie didn’t need this drama, even in a lower key dose. She all but dragged Lucio behind her as they made their escape.  He flowed behind her on his skates, and she envied him that ease of movement. She had skated when she was very young, on wheels through the hallways of a slowly decaying Chateau, on the lake surrounding the castle when the water froze, but when she began to be serious about dance, she’d given up those things that might be an unnecessary danger to her limbs, or ankles.  

Her friend from dance class, Chantal had been ice skating with her on the frozen lake one winter, and broke her arm after a bad fall.  While her friend had still been able to attend dance class, the bulky cast had been awkward and the thought of being kept from dancing to her fullest ability had been like an arrow to Amelie’s heart.  No more skating. Now Amelie raced across rooftops and leapt gracefully from one building to the next. Aided by her grapple she attained stellar heights and reached tiny perches in order to fulfill her primary objective.  From principal ballet dancer to premiere assassin, she felt that the latter was the more exhilarating of the two. But now she didn’t have to fear a broken bone would collapse her career. She’d sustained so much worse damage than that over the years.  She was simply repaired, and then sent on another mission. Year, after year. Working. Breaking. Healing. Training. Killing…

Without thinking about it, she had taken them back to the rough hewn gym where Lucio and she had practiced the Tango for hours.  It was empty again, except for the two of them. She knew what she needed.

“Dance with me.”

 She stated it as if there were no question.  But the golden shine of her eyes held pleading that would never touch her lips.  Lucio let his music fill the cavern.

 

**Angela Ziegler - Mercy**

 

The good doctor wasn’t feeling so good.  The problem was she **_should_ ** feel bad for smacking Brigitte so hard, from behind, with her **_caduceus_ ** of all things… but she didn’t.  In fact, there was a smug little smile in her heart from that act.  However, dealing with these… these… children! Was trying her last nerve.  Kissing. How simple a concept. Yet they couldn’t keep it simple if their lives depended on it.

“I was just doing what you told me to do!” Brigitte’s voice still indignant, rose again, “I tested LaCroix’s tolerance!  And let me tell you it’s pretty darn low! She seriously needs a good hard f…”

“Stop right there Lindholm!” Angela’s snap made the Swedish girl flinch back, “Really?  Can’t any of you JUST kiss? It’s easy! Small children can do it! You big children should have more control than a school grader!”

“If it’s so easy, you show us how it’s done!” Hana added her two cents.

The younger, Korean meka pilot pointed to where Brigitte had left the former Talon agent…  And they all realized Amelie had fled the room. Lucio was also conspicuous by his absence.

 

**Amelie LaCroix - Widowmaker**

 

Amelie was grateful Lucio was making no demands on her.  He simply was there, moving to the sound that flowed like a river through them both.  Music and motion calmed her thoughts, gave structure and form to the fight or flight response that had built in her from Brigitte’s rough handling.  Oh that girl! There was pure, ruthless predator there, in the stillness of her icy Nordic eyes, to the relentless strength of her that brooked no refusal.  Amelie bit her lip as the place between her legs where Brigitte had pressed her knee throbbed with need. Part of her wanted to just collapse, and rub there.  To find some sort of relief from the overwhelming hungers that were building in her. She still ached… all over.

How had this come to be?  Normally she was cool and emotionally numb.  She had to **_work_ ** to pull herself out of the void that Talon had condemned her to experience daily.  She had long suspected that the food and drink that Talon provided her through the years was loaded with a little more than nutrients and protein.  A little lace of mood dampeners and other chemical cocktails that kept the pet assassin docile when not deployed. Sometimes, when her captivity grated on her, when things became… **_irritating_ ** … sometimes she even welcomed the calming.  

Now… she was anything but calm.  Her mind felt fevered with the memory of the taste of Hana’s mouth, the bite of Lucio’s strong white teeth marking the blue skin at the nape of her neck, the ruthless press of Brigitte’s knee against her wet, ready entrance.  Widowmaker bit her lower lip and squirmed. Was she really that needy? Was she willing prey to anyone hungry enough, anyone ready to press her down and feast on her flesh? At Talon the lechery of the rank and file had disgusted her.  It was only days ago that the thought of bodily contact, much less sex, had filled her with mild revulsion and at best, the simple resignation that a contemptible chore brought. Now she was craving things she had not craved since before Moira had… fixed her.  

Golden eyes glared behind her momentarily shut lids.  Moira! What had that red haired, witch of a doctor done to her?  What lattice of bindings had Talon’s mad scientist netted her in, and why were they loosening so dreadfully now?   **_Mon dieu, j'ai besoin de baiser._ ** Amelie held back a moan of need, barely.  She knew it was a losing battle. She needed… comfort… punishment…

“Lucio…”

She knew it could harm the fragile, new threads of friendship she had begun to build with him.  With Hana. But… she needed… her hands cupped his solid buttocks… they stilled as the music moved without them.  Their bodies were pressed front to front. For the moment the only sound other than the music was their breathing.

To be continued


	21. Something Unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amelie prevails upon Lucio to help her. Then Something Unexpected Happens
> 
> If you read the chapter where Mercy finally kisses Widowmaker, that was revised and that never happened! Sorry. It felt too rushed to me, so I rewrote chapter 20 and if you haven't read the revision, Lucio and Amelie run away while the running's good... or while Angela and poor smacked upside the head Brigitte have words. Yes. That did happen. Poor Brigitte.
> 
>  
> 
> So now my story has wandered hither and yon. So sorry Mercymaker fans! No kisses for Mercy! Hope you will like the new direction of the story. Eventually Mercy kisses will come. Maybe. Anyway you may want to re-read chapter 20 so chapter 21 makes sense.

**Prisoner of Peace**

**Part 2 Chapter 21**

An Overwatch Fan Fiction 

By Mooncatx  _ The Bliss Crimson _

 

**Lúcio Correia dos Santos**

**[You may need to re-read chapter 20, it underwent a revision.  seriously.]**

 

He would have to be dead below the waist not to have Widowmaker’s tentative touch make his manhood grow heavy, hard and ready.  Her gentle stroking over his cloth covered length sparked a banked heat in the pit of his belly that threatened to spill over and fill him with fire.  He covered her slender blue hands with his own darker ones, the contrast of their hands together was beautiful. He rubbed his thumb over her wrist pulse point, feeling the jump of her blood beneath his touch.

“No.” His voice was soft, but sure, “Not now.”

“Hana?”  Amelie’s voice was equally soft as she brought their joined hands to her lips, traced the length of his long, supple fingers with her mouth.  They were the hands of a musician, graceful strength, and full of creative fire. These were hands to make instruments and lovers sing.

“Partly.  And partly you, Amelie LaCroix.  There may be a time and a place for this to happen between us, but that time is not now.” Lucio smiled and brought their hands up to his own lips, and kissed the backs of her fingers.

Her golden eyes glowed in the room’s dim lighting while music pulsed around them, her lips parted, but whatever reply she would have made was lost to sudden darkness and a low gravelly command…

“Go to **SLEEP** , little man.” Reaper spoke with a grave finality as the Brazillian DJ collapsed.  

Widowmaker was still and quiet as Sombra’s needle tipped gloved fingers rested lightly on her throat.  Golden eyes wide as saucers, stared at the bone white mask of her former team mate. 

“You seem to like the boy.” Reaper commented darkly, tipping Lucio’s limp body over with the steel toe of his boot.  That can make things easier, or worse. Come along quietly, and do as I say, and Overwatch will not mourn their little music maker today.  Fight us, and I’ll wash the floor with his blood. Your call, LaCroix.”

 

**Amelie LaCroix - Widowmaker**

 

The odds of escaping both Reaper and Sombra were not in her favor.  No weapons, not even her grapple. Lucio left at their mercy even if she managed to simply run and make it out of the gymnasium.  The boy with the beautiful smile, who had accepted her without judgement or reserve, and danced with her. Widowmaker realized that she didn’t want him to die.  It surprised her. She’d grown attached and hadn’t even been truly aware of it till just now. Fear settled cold and heavy in her heart. She couldn’t afford to care for another’s well being over her own.  She couldn’t… She had to be heartless. For both their sakes.

“He is nothing to me.” She shrugged one shoulder in disregard, careful not to let Sombra’s hypodermic fingertips pierce her skin.  “I only care about my own kills, Reaper. If you want to amuse yourself, far be it for me to stop you. If you’ve the time to spare for it, go ahead.  It’s not like we are in the heart of the Overwatch Headquarters… oh wait, that’s exactly where we are.”

“She’s right, Gabe.” Sombra added in her rich, accented purr, the hand not holding sharp tipped threat at Widowmaker’s throat was languidly caressing the assassin’s side from breast to hip, “Besides, I like his music.  We should keep him for now, as insurance. If La Araña doesn’t care about him, his Overwatch buddies will. Right now I have Athena lagged and looped as far as our Widowmaker is concerned, the AI won’t realized she’s not under real time observation till we’re done here.  How fortunate that Overwatch headquarters is part of a vast system of mostly unexplored caverns. So much area beyond their surveillance, where just about  **_anything_ ** could happen with no one the wiser.” 

Reaper’s mask showed no emotion, but his disapproval was as palpable as the dark smoke that wreathed him like black flame.  “He’s excess baggage, better to leave his corpse as a message.

Amethyst eyes sparkled with dark mischief as Sombra added with a sharp toothed grin, “You did say we were going to have an… in depth… field interrogation.  I know you want to spend  **_quality_ ** time with our truant team mate, which means I need something to occupy myself with.  You wouldn’t want me without someone to do while you are,  **_deep_ ** into Widowmaker’s… debriefing, would you, Reaper?”

There was something about the emphasis Sombra was placing on her words that made Widowmaker uneasy.  What was she implying about Reaper’s planned interrogation? Whatever it was… As long as it distracted Reaper from killing Lucio…  A gasp escaped Amelie as Sombra’s free hand slid beneath the side of the tunic dress, and the warmth of the hacker’s delicate hand cupped the captive woman’s breast, fingertips playing gently with the stiffened nub that tipped the gentle swell of flesh.

“Ohhh…!  Gabriel! Her nipple is stiff like a bullet!” Sombra all but carolled out, laughter in her voice and eyes.  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say our Amelie is  **_very_ ** ready for interrogation!”

“Sombra!” Reaper’s voice was a harsh growl, but even masked his gaze was clearly aimed at where the latina’s hand was playing beneath Widowmaker’s dress.

“Fine, we’ll take the boy as well.  If it will keep you amused and out of my way.” 

Reaper gathered up the still limp and unconscious Lucio, and glided away in a sweep of smoke and shadows.  Laughing, low chortles of glee, Sombra kneed Amelie from behind, and whispered, “Come along and play nicely, little spider.  If all goes well, Lucio will be none the worse for wear when we are done. You probably won’t be so lucky, of course. But who is to say?  You may live to see tomorrow. You might even take no… permanent… damage. Give Reaper what he wants. What he  **_needs_ ** .  You may even get what you need too, mi amiga.  We all might get what we need.”

With that cryptic statement, Sombra pushed Widowmaker towards the shadows where Reaper had taken Lucio.  Amelie kept her face calm, but below the surface she seethed with conflicting thoughts and emotions. She had an inkling now of what Reaper and Sombra were after.  It was something she would never have expected from her former teammates before. It was if her entire world had gone off kilter in most peculiar ways. She almost laughed, if only to keep tears at bay.

to be continued    

  
  
  



	22. Through Caverns Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief prelude to Reaper and Sombra's interrogation of Widowmaker

**Prisoner of Peace Part 2 Chapter 22**

An Overwatch Fan Fiction

By Mooncatx _The Bliss Crimson_

 

  **Amelie LaCroix - Widowmaker**   

 

 Amelie felt light headed as Sombra forced her into the shadowed caverns leading away from the rough hewn gymnasium where she had been dancing with Lucio in only moments before.  It was surreal. Reaper and Sombra as her… captors? It was only days ago they were a team. Team Talon. She had heard the moniker before, in reference to their Triumvirate. First as a joke after their initial failure in Russia, then in respect and fear as following missions bore sweeter fruit.  It became the norm to see one and expect the other two to be near at hand. It was a given that they worked well together. It had seemed natural. They were all three made for infiltration and wet work, each with unique skills and talents that together made them greater, stronger as a whole than alone.  

While Widowmaker didn’t have friends, these two were the ones she had considered… what?  Not people she could trust, never that. But… count on? During a mission, she had depended on each of them to do their part.  For the greater good of Talon, she’d put up with them, grown used to them, become part of a familiar unit. So it felt something like betrayal, to be at their mercy.  She almost laughed at the irony. She had been the one who left Talon, but Talon would never simply let her go. She’d known this, in her heart of hearts, despite what Angela promised her.  She just hadn’t expected the response to be this quick, or these particular two… Ah, but of course it would have to be these two. Her defection would brand them as traitors by association. To clear the remaining team of her betrayal, they would have to prove their allegiance aggressively, make sure there was no remaining doubt of their loyalties.  They would need to wash out the stain with blood. _Her blood_.

But then… _why_ ?  Why was she still alive?  Reaper and Sombra could have finished her the moment they found her.  Not that she didn’t appreciate being alive still, for however long that lasted.  Were they planning torture? Were they keeping her whole, for now, to gain a more slow and satisfying revenge?  Sombra had… she had implied that Reaper was planning to… but that **_couldn’t_ ** be.  Sombra herself, Widowmaker would put nothing past the hacker.  But Reaper? For all the years she had known, dark and brooding and as quick to deal death as breath.  Gabriel Reyes, the one men called the Reaper, had shown absolute **_zero_ ** interest in her sexually.  Why would he want her in that way now?  

It wasn’t even her alone that Talon’s premiere killer had shown no interest in.  During her time with Talon, even before they were paired for missions, Reaper had shown no sexual interest in any woman or man, in even the most minute way.  She’d thought perhaps he was asexual, or the damage he’d survived had crippled him in that way. She’d known omnic monks with more sex drive. It wasn’t part of his interrogation methods either.  She’d been part of interrogations with Reaper before. Aside from the threat of damaging, or removing the family jewels of the victim, the implication of predatory, sexual awareness had never been brought up.  

“What’s changed, Sombra?” Widowmaker dared to ask, voice soft as they continued to their destination.

The hacker’s short bark of laughter made Amelie frown.  “I understand you both will… hurt me. I expect it. But there is something with Reaper, something I’ve never sensed before.  I don’t understand it.”

“Araña, what do you think?  We’ve been **_watching_ ** you.” Sombra purred, her amusement clear even in the shadows, “I will admit, I never would have suspected you had such… appetites.”

“McCree?  I know you accessed the security video.” Widowmaker voice was smooth, even if her mind turned over the information with annoyance.  First Morrison, now Reyes? What was it that seeing her with the cowboy should set other men off?

“Feh!” Sombra’s mockery was clear, “We watched you with McCree and had popcorn and soda.  It was **_very_ ** entertaining.  But Reaper’s only reaction was to scold me for invading your privacy, and talk how I should keep an eye open when sleeping on our way back with you, because you might be vexxed.

The hacker pressed her fingertips the tiniest bit, the threat at Widowmaker’s throat all the more precarious.

“No, amiga,” Sombra’s voice lowered, just for her former team mate’s ears, “Your romp with McCree was nothing to our fearless leader.  Though I never knew you could see blushes through that skull mask of his. He didn’t care about the cowboy.”

Widowmaker felt a chill run through her as she voiced the next obvious reason, “Commander Morrison.”

“Right on the nose!” Sombra’s voice vibrated with excitement, “You know his obsession with Soldier 76.  I always wondered if they were lovers, the passion there is so dark and deep. **_Loco_ **.  You shook something awake Araña.  I will hand it to you, I would never think to see anything but bloodlust in Reaper.  But watching you let Morrison have his way. Damn…”

Widowmaker gave an involuntary shudder.  Of course they would have watched her with Morrison.

“I could see a not so little tent pitching in his pants while watching you with the Overwatch Commander.” Sombra continued, “It was a revelation!  Now, I’m not saying it’s a get out of jail free card, but if you play this the right way, _mi cielo azul_ , things could have a much happier ending than what was originally planned.”

“He wants to **_fuck me_ **?”  Widowmaker couldn’t keep the disbelief out of her voice.  Even though it made sense, something in her resisted the logic.  

“Fuck you.  Own you. Prove his superiority to Jack Morrison.” the shrug in Sombra’s voice carried, “Maybe he doesn’t know himself.  But this is something Talon the organization cannot offer him, amiga. This is something only you can give him. Surrender yourself.  It will be better for all of us, if you give him what he needs.”

There was no more conversation as they reached their final destination.  The caves and caverns that honeycombed the area surrounding Overwatch’s Headquarters were for the greater part, unexplored.  It had taken little for Sombra and Reaper to set up a cozy hidey hole for their purpose. A small set of caves made a rough hewn suite of rooms.  Sombra’s gestured, and a soft amethyst lighting brightened the area. She had taken liberty to **_borrow_ ** some furnishings from Overwatch’s stores.  

Reaper had already laid out Lucio on a surprisingly comfortable looking couch.  The young DJ’s wrists were bound together and secured behind his head. Reaper had removed the musician’s skates, and placed his ankles into a spreader bar that was bolted to the floor.  

“Give her to me.” Reaper’s voice brooked no refusal as he reached out a metal gloved hand.

With a shove, Sombra pulled away her leathally tipped hand and propelled Widowmaker into Reaper’s arms.  The sudden move caught the captive assassin by surprise, and she stumbled and caught herself against Reaper’s broad chest.  Widowmaker froze. Mind blank for the first time since her abduction. She felt… small… fragile almost… engulfed in Reaper’s embrace.  He was so very large.

Before she could even voice a protest, Reaper swept her up bridal style and strode into another separate area, significantly far from view of Sombra’s cozy nook.  

“Gabriel… “ Widowmaker’s attempt to speak was quickly silenced.

“Don’t speak unless I tell you to.”  Reaper’s low growl echoed through the secluded cave he’d taken her to.  

Eyes wide, Amelie took in what the low lighting revealed.  This was no doubt their interrogation chamber. Manacles bolted to the walls and floor, a medical exam platform in the center equipped with restraints.  Surprisingly no array of torture devices to set the mood of dread and terror. How remiss. She would have commented but the sight of Reaper shedding his cowled trench stopped the words in her throat.  Had she ever seen him without that ever present dark raiment even once? He didn’t stop there. A dark pile of cloth and metal grew as a dark skinned, battle scarred and hardened body came into view. Ropes of muscle, and the remains of an epic array of wounds marked his flesh.  All his flesh. Even there… The heavy thickness of him was tumescent. Ridges of scar tissue chased over his length, like lighting bolts, thin zig zags pale on the darker skin of his cock.

He stood before her, bare but for his mask, which now ungloved hands were lifting away…

To be continued.


	23. Where Dark Things Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper makes his first move

**Part 2 Chapter 23**

An Overwatch Fan Fiction

By Mooncatx _The Bliss Crimson_

 

 **Amelie LaCroix - Widowmaker**   

 

Reaper slowly removed his mask.  Widowmaker stood without words, watching.  Since she’d become aware of the agent known as Reaper, she had never seen him without the mask.  That he would bare his face was more shocking than simply stripping his body. She had known the face of Gabriel Reyes when she was Amelie.  Her husband’s friend, and her bare acquaintance. It had been a very masculine, handsome face, from what she remembered. Now, scars ran jagged across brow and cheek, Nothing was spared the ravages of the past.  Nose slightly crooked from an imperfect setting, Lips, thick and full bore discolored marks as trails of once ripped flesh criss crossed his damaged face.

But despite the many, ruinous scars, the foremost thing that struck her were his eyes.  Their color had deepened from a once warm, chocolate brown to a darker, stygian brown that was almost black.  His pupils nearly melted into that darkness, his gaze was like the abyss. Once you looked into his eyes, you could feel yourself falling into them.

“Are you really going to do this?  You don’t have to. I will tell you whatever you want to know.” Amelie spoke simply.  Fear did not color her voice, but her golden eyes held his dark gaze with a growing alarm, feeling the intensity of his full attention focused solely on her.

“You can talk afterwards.” Reaper’s voice held a deep rumble that was even more evident without the mask, “I don’t really care what you have to say.  I am going to take you for the pleasure of it. For my pleasure. Anything else is just icing on the cake.”

“You’ve never wanted me **_this_ ** way, before.” Widowmaker’s words were breathy, hesitant, despite herself.  It took an effort of will not to waver, or fall back as he stalked forward. Amelie didn’t look away, she wasn’t sure she could if she wanted too.

“I didn’t think you were sexually... **_available_ ** .  Not anymore than a store mannequin.” He all but growled the words as he closed in on her, his strong hands reaching into her hair and tugging it loose of the simple elastic band, so it flowed in dark, sleek waves over her shoulders and back.  “The word was that Moira took that passion away from you when you were upgraded. You were nice to look at, but fucking you would be like fucking an automaton, no real passion to be had. But that was a lie, wasn’t it? Because you gave it up to Overwatch.  You gave them everything you kept from Talon. Everything you kept from **_me_ **.”  

Cupping her seemingly emotionless face in his hands, he **_kissed_ ** her.  Sudden and searing in it’s intensity, Reaper’s kiss stilled the very breath in her lungs as his lips possessed hers.  Exploring... seeking… burning... His fingers curled in her hair and tightened, bringing a pained mew of protest from her lips as his tongue dipped deeper into her mouth, demanding.  Her hands went to his shoulders and tried to press him back. It was like trying to move a stone wall. She was powerless against the strength of him. He kissed her till she whimpered, and then kissed her harder.  When he finally pulled away she was breathless, and shaking.

This is how it’s going to be.” Reaper’s voice was low and deep, thunder whispered against her ear, “You can try to kill me, and I will not die.  You can fight me, and I will win. You can try to escape, and I will hunt you down. You can struggle as I fuck you, and it will make it feel even better.  For both of us.”

“What if I don’t do anything?  What if I just lay limp?” she asked with an arched brow, even as her breath grew ragged in her chest.

“Do you really think that’s an option for you?” Reaper’s deep rumble was dark laughter now, “We’ve been watching you, LaCroix.  In the medical bay with the bunny girl and the shield maiden, you were ready to spread your legs for either of them right there in front of an audience.  You **_need_ ** to be fucked so badly, you were ready to beg that boy Sombra’s playing with to mount you.”

“He’s sweet.” Amelie frowned, looking up at the naked killer, as smoke and shadows curled around him like felines rubbing against their master.

“You don’t want **_sweet_ ** between your legs, Widowmaker.” his growl reached out to her, curling around her senses as his lips brushed against her skin, his fingers burning through the cloth that covered her breasts and thighs, “You want a **_monster_ **.”

She couldn’t stop the sudden gasp that escaped her as one of his hands slipped beneath the high cut slit of her skirt, three hard, large fingers filled her with a deep, savage invasion.  Her needy moan did not dispute his words, nor did the wet heat of her sex gripping his fingers with tight, eager hunger. Without thinking she moved, riding Reaper’s digits as soft, animal sounds escaped her throat.  Only his other arm wrapped tight around her, supporting her, kept her upright as his fingers fucked her with a hard, deep rhythm.

“Ahhhh… “ words failed her, if not sound.

“That’s my pretty baby,” Reaper crooned his thumb rubbing roughly on Widowmaker’s clit, the ridges of scar tissue scraping the sensitive swollen nub with just the perfect amount of friction, “Show me how you will just lay limp, when I touch you like this.”

“ **_Bâtard fils de chien!_ ** ” Amelie howled, golden eyes glaring, and she bit his shoulder as he forced her to come with a helpless scream.  Her body trembled and she felt her sex tighten on his fingers as he continued to fuck her with them, milking another orgasm onto the tail of the first.  The triumph in his laughter was almost as maddening as the blissful satisfaction she felt as his fingers filled her, stroking inside with relentless, delicious arrogance.  

“What a filthy mouth you have.  I can’t wait to have it wrapped around my cock.” Reaper growled with amusement as he half guided, half carried the orgasm dazed sniper to the medical exam platform.

The rough vulgarity of his words belied the almost gentle way he checked her sex, moving the soft cloth of the dress aside.  On impulse he kissed her there, earning another involuntary moan from his captive. She tasted salty sweet. Jack hadn’t even touched the surface of what could be done with such a passionate prisoner.  So caught up in his need to command, and control, Morrison was limited in ways he couldn’t fully realize. Gabriel Reyes was once limited, but no more. Now Reaper would break through boundaries, break through bonds if he needed to, and show both Jack and Team Talon’s errant member that the true master of pleasure and pain was the Reaper.

 

to be continued


	24. Team Building

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had previously posted a much shorter and less detailed version of this chapter, and I didn't feel satisfied with it. Here is the reworked, and I hope Better Rendition of the scene I was trying to convey. I apologize for any confusion. I hope you like it. Comments always welcome.

**Prisoner of Peace**

Part 2 Chapter 24

An Overwatch Fan Fiction

_By Mooncatx The Bliss Crimson_

**Gabriel Reyes - Reaper**

 

Reaper would never have pegged Widowmaker as someone to squirm and wiggle, but she could not seem to keep still as he peeled her out of the pretty dress that he’d watched Hana Song make for her.  That had been another surprise. The Korean Meka fighter was a known cosplayer, but he’d assumed she had her many costumes made for her. To see the skill with material that the girl with the call sign D.Va had been impressive.  Nearly as impressive as the way she’d handled LaCroix. She had the assassin stripped and at her bidding immediately. Then in the Doctor’s office, Hana Song had not been slow to go directly for what she wanted. Talon’s top operative was glad his skull mask hid his dropped jaw as the smaller woman had Widowmaker at her mercy and ready for more than kisses in a matter of heart beats.

**_Only a short time ago_ **

Sombra had made more popcorn and chilled horchata.  The scent of salty butter and the cinnamon rice drink accompanied the little needful sounds coming from LaCroix on the holovids as they observed her.  Since their infiltration of the Overwatch Headquarters, they had burrowed in and prepared for the upcoming interrogation of their wayward teammate. While they waited for a perfect capture point, they’d done what expert espionage agents were meant to do.  They spied on Widowmaker and the Overwatch persons she had contact with. It had been a shocking series of revelations. Why LaCroix had swapped sides was obvious. Reaper and Sombra themselves were now aware that they might also have personal kill switches.  Something to be addressed at another time. However, the way Overwatch was going about debugging Amelie LaCroix seemed… overly hands on.

“She’s gonna have those kill switches fucked out of her.” Sombra had commented bluntly, and if Reaper didn’t hear a note of jealousy in her Mexican accented growl, he’d eat his cowl.  “ _¡Caray!_  And Overwatch does NOT lack for some _más guapa la gente_ volunteering to help her with that.”The latina hacker had then stuffed several handfuls of buttery popcorn goodness into her mouth and chewed like it was her mission in life.  When she’d swallowed it all down with the horchata, Sombra had looked over at Reaper and commented with a certain deadly seriousness.

“As her teammates, it should be us fucking her into submission.  After all, this is a Talon issue. Kill switches and what not. If anyone gets to drill our little _araña azul_ , pump her for information, and just downright tie her up and give her _un palo de su vida_ …  

“Didn’t think you swung that way, Sombra.” Reaper’s comment was flat, concealing his own thoughts.   

“Please!  When talking about _la Araña_ , the phrase, _I’d be gay for that_ , was made for her.”

“Do tell.” Reaper’s dry tone underlined his sarcasm.  

But he didn’t disagree.  Many people in Talon had shown desire for Widowmaker, male and female alike, with only the fear she inspired as a deadly assassin keeping them from making moves.  Had she shown even the faintest interest, she would not have lacked for lovers. What was telling was that she had not shown any interest for anyone. The rumors that swirled around her were many and varied, but the general consensus was that Widowmaker was dead to sexual passion.  Which made it all the more stunning that having been taken in by Overwatch, she was all but begging for it. From Jesse McCree to Hana Song, LaCroix was giving it away with sensual abandon. It was time she shared with her Talon teammates all the carnal affections she was handing out to Overwatch.  Reaper had a twisted, but deeply embedded sense of fairness. It offended him to the soul that Widowmaker should show him and Sombra no hint as to her desires, but the moment Jack… Morrison hadn’t hesitated to order her to… Reaper felt it again, That that deep, gut churning feeling he couldn’t quite name.  Watching his enemy take her so savagely, and seeing her come totally undone… screaming Jack’s name.

It was a given, even if Widowmaker had been captured by Overwatch and was their unwilling captive, that she had allowed them liberties way beyond what he could overlook.  There would have to be a balancing of scales. It was a necessity. Yet… it surprised Reaper, this feeling of eagerness he was feeling. How much he was looking forward to getting up close and personal in an intimate way.  For all the time he’d worked with Widowmaker and Sombra, he’d never considered bedding either of them. Sombra, even though he recognized she was attractive, had always felt like a bratty little sister. As for Widowmaker, she wasn’t like the rank and file at Talon.  An elite operative, she was kept apart from the common herd, both pampered and isolated, a pretty little blue bird in a gilded cage. He’d always thought of her as being incapable of sexual desires, despite her sometimes taunting demeanor towards her foes.

He had noticed her, initially as a decoration on Gerard’s arm, off limits as a friend’s woman.  Then in Talon, first as a brainwashed weapon, who he had thought had no will of her own. Then as a team mate, like Sombra, she was not only a close co-worker, but because he thought she was not capable of feeling sensual desire, it had killed any kind of sexual appeal to him.  Hell, even if he had felt an attraction, he’d never would have acted on it. Now that he was on a vengeance path, he knew better than to allow sex to distract him. All this time in Talon and he’d never dipped his pen in company ink.

He hadn’t even had a whore to take the edge off in… _years?_  Had it been so long?  The few times he’d gotten horny lately he’d taken care of with a hot shower and some bath gel.  A little mindless jerking to deal with an annoying physical demand. Now, since seeing the Holovid of LaCroix letting Jack use her so harshly in such a sexual way…  For some reason, his balls had gotten as blue as the woman he planned to bury himself in. God he was hard. And Sombra had not only noticed, she’d pestered him incessantly about it.  That hacker had no life of her own. He was nearly certain about it. Otherwise she wouldn’t be trying to mess with others so often.

**_Now_ **

**Amelie LaCroix - Widowmaker**

 

Amelie bit back a sound of dismay as Reaper pulled off the dress that Hana had made her.  She didn’t struggle, not wanting to fight and risk damaging it, but for some reason she couldn’t stay still either.  Despite his dubious intentions, she noted the Talon agent took care with her garment, smoothing it, folding it neatly, and laying it aside.  She could see the angry red of her bite on his shoulder. Her teeth hadn’t broken the skin, but she’d marked him. She knew he could drain a part of her life force to heal the wound if he wanted.  That he didn’t bother made her shiver. He was choosing to let her wound him.

Meanwhile his shadows slipped and slid over her now bared skin.  They felt... silky? There was an _almost_ oiled, _almost_ acidic bite to them.  The shadowy mist was like an electric tingle.  Like a low hum of energy cascading over her skin as sly tendrils played over her stiff and sensitive nipples.  Coaxing, teasing… Sombra hadn’t been lying before, much to Amelie’s shame. They were still aching and hard, and now visible for all to see.  Her breasts were small but perfect for her build, their gentle swells pert, with areola deeper, pebbled blue hue than the rest of her softer azure complexion.  The shadows lingered, curling and pulling on her. It felt almost like suckling…

A slow hiss of breath escaped her as the shadows slipped behind her, inside the crease of her bottom and over her tender places.  She was now very sensitive, wet and slick from coming on Reaper’s fingers. Her eyes raised to meet his dark gaze and shuddered as his shadows sank into her where his fingers had been.  Gods help her but her hips bucked, her inner muscled tried to tighten on the insubstantial caress of his shadow smoke.

“Spread your legs for me, LaCroix.” Reaper spoke with a demanding growl as he straddled the base of the exam platform, while she lay against the middle section and the raised head, knees together, trying to hide her obviously excited state from that fathomless gaze.  

Stripped of his mission leathers and mask, he should have been less formidable.  All that naked, scarred, skin, muscled the way only a man dedicated to making his body a living weapon and who trained accordingly.  Every inch of him was hard and toned. She tried to avoid staring at the hardest part of him, now so close to her. She was disturbingly aware of him now.  The heat of his bared body so near the cooler bared skin of her own. Male to her female, in a way they’d never been before. It terrified her how she was responding to him.  While her mind knew all the reasons this should not be, her body was ready to revel in being taken, possessed, and satisfied by such a dominant man.

“I don’t want to.” Her breathy voice shook a little, surprising them both.  She’d never shown any vulnerability in front of Reaper before. His shadows almost pulsed inside her, and the sensation drew another sound of alarm and awareness of her still heightened state of arousal.  Even coming for Reaper only moments before hadn’t satiated her newly awakened, sensual appetite. It had only whetted her want for more. Her thighs had begun to tremble as shadow touches were becoming more insistant, more intimate.

“I am your senior ranking, Talon field operative.  I order you to spread open those pretty blue thighs for me so I can see up close and personal, how deliciously slick and ready for fucking your wanton little pussy is, LaCroix.”

His obscene order rumbled through her, almost a lascivious touch in itself, and she nearly moaned as she felt herself grow slicker still.  Reaper’s _command_ voice… It had never been directed to her this way.  Always before orders to direct her on mission. Orders to kill.  Now he was ordering her to open her intimate self to him. Part of her was eager to obey.  Another was rebellious, wanting to resist, and to make him work to take her. She knew the moment he saw how wet and ready she was he would know her in a way there was no returning from.  She’d never be able to conceal certain parts of herself from him again. Could she bear Reaper knowing her in this way? Unlike Hana, or even Jack, Gabriel Reyes was pure predator, willing to bring down and ravage it’s prey.  Every about him breathed _danger_ , approach at your own risk.

“ _Non_.”  Her voice was small but steady, and her golden eyes were wide.  She had never rejected an order from a Talon superior before. A sick, heady feeling of fear and excitement surged through her like electricity.  Her hands cupped her knees tightly, her legs folded in front of her, pressed together, a symbolic barrier between her all too wet and eager sex and the interest now showing plainly on Reaper’s scarred face.  She could almost see him light up from inside while his eyes seemed to gather darkness. Her refusal clearly exciting him. He wanted more than mere obedience. She could see the pleasure of meeting, and overcoming a challenge rise in him.

“You are refusing a direct order, LaCroix?” Reaper’s voice held surprise, and a certain amount of raw, building lust, “After you gave it up for Morrison without so much as a squeak of protest?”

“Exactement.”

 Amelie felt herself losing the ability to speak in anything but in single word responses, but there was only need for one to convey a challenging taunt.  If nothing else her skill in this area was unsurpassed. She could challenge and entice with nothing more than a glance from her golden eyes beneath dark lashes.  She wondered if she should be disgusted with herself. She was in danger of her life, she knew that in her blood and bone. Yet… right now, all she could think of was the scarred strength of the man looming in front of her, pressing her open, like an oyster forced to reveal it’s hidden, succulent folds and gleaming pearl.  

When she felt the heat of his hands on her wrists, firm and tight, but without anger, only hunger, the breath caught in her throat.  This was what he wanted as well. They were playing a dangerous game together. A game that she would never have thought to play with Reaper.  It made her shudder inside both in delight and despair.

The restraint that bound her wrists together came as no surprise, as Reaper secured her hands above her head on the exam table.  His strength then easily parted her knees, even though she pressed them together with all her might. Slowly but unrelentingly he pressed her open, and savored the sight of her intimate self revealed in torrid, flushed heat.  The scent of her heat perfumed the air, there was no mistaking her state. She’d been in need since fleeing from Angela’s medical bay. That need had only grown greater since Reaper had stripped her and now had her bound and at his complete mercy.  He could do anything to her… everything to her… and she would love it.

The sight and scent of her were not enough for Reaper.  He leaned down and explored Widowmaker’s moist, flushed folds with his mouth.  His hungry mouth hot and demanding on her juicy wetness. He licked. He lapped.  He suckled. He tasted her deeply and with a possessive growl he devoured her.

Her pleasured scream wailed through the caverns, wordless and primal.  Hips uncontrollably shaking, she came under his demanding mouth, flooding his tongue, lips, cheeks, with her juices as he only growled and continued to feast on her quivering flesh.  His name finally fell from her lips, his birth name rent from her by the sweet insanity that savaged her.

“Gabe!” she cried, voice hoarse from her previous outcry, “ _Dieu_ … Gabe… Gabe… Gabriel…!!!”

In the other cavern, Lucio was gaining awareness of someone removing his clothing.  Sombra’s purr was in his ears, low lilting laughter, as they both listened to Widowmaker losing her sanity to the intense hunger of Reaper’s lips and tongue.  Her cries could not be taken for anything else but sexual submission, sexual domination, and glorious sexual release.

“Amelie…?” Lucio slurred, stirring from a numbness to a foggy awareness.

“Yes.  Amelie is enjoying herself right now.” Sombra assured him, petting the rising mound she was releasing from his pants.  “Ohhhh… and I think we’ll be enjoying ourselves soon as well.”

to be continued.

 


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, this is smut. No plot really, just Reaper having his way, and Sombra... well she runs into complications.

**Prisoner of Peace**

Part 2 Chapter 25

An Overwatch Fan Fiction

_By Mooncatx The Bliss Crimson_

**Gabriel Reyes - Reaper**

  


Reaper looked at the woman spread out before him, delicate wrists bound above her head, breathing ragged, golden eyes wide and staring.  Widowmaker looked good, stripped naked, wet and messy and unable to shield anything of herself from his gaze. What a pretty sight she made, with her exotic blue skin, softer than any silk, pussy weeping from his attentions, quivering flesh only barely recovering from unrelenting orgasms.  She looked tortured with pleasure, unable to struggle at the moment as her body was too limp from his taste of her. And she had tasted delicious. The salty sweetness of her coated his face, smeared his skin, and he licked his fingertips as his dark eyes roved over her.

“Gabriel… ?” Her voice was low and rough, almost a whisper.  

He liked the sound of his name on her lips.  He leaned down and took them, crushing her mouth with his own, and took her ability to speak with a deep, possessive kiss.  He swallowed her whimpers and felt his erection become painfully hard. He wanted to draw it out as long as he could, but his need to sink into her was testing his control.  He knew she’d be tight. Hot, and tight and perfect. He kissed his way from her mouth, to the almost elfin, delicate point of her chin, down the swan like length of her neck, pausing only to bite down over the sweet thudding pulse there, sucking on it like candy, listening to her hiccuping cries as his hands cupped the swells of her petite, perfect breasts, thumbs rubbing rough over the pebbled peaks, the hard little nubs that he bent down to suckle.

Darker blue, velvety, sweet.  Every inch of her like sea salt caramel, made to melt in his demanding mouth.  Widowmaker’s keening cry scraped at his control, begging for him to slide into her, fill her with the iron hard length of him, bury himself deep and deeper, hammer her with his soldier enhancement strength.  Her body had recovered enough strength to undulate beneath his touching, his tasting of her. A glance at her face and his body heat spiked. Tears were streaming from her nearly closed eyes, her mouth open as meaningless sound fell from her lips, speaking the language of her need.  Soft, lingering moans…

“Please, please… “ words finally took form, “Gabriel… Reaper… please…!”

“I like hearing you beg, pretty girl.” Reaper’s low growl made her moan as he rubbed fingertips just inside her slick folds, teasing her, tormenting her, “You sound like sex, like heat, like… wet, hot need.”

He slipped three fingers into her suddenly, knowing she was slick and ready, pumping them as she arched up, greedy for more, then as she moaned in desperation, he pulled them away and sucked the juices of her on them.  Delicious.

“Tell me what you want, _azulita_ .” his voice like his shadows running over her skin like a touch, “Tell me what you _need_.”

“You… Reaper… I need you in me!” her golden eyes were nearly molten as she stared at him, her voice almost a sob as her need echoed through her words, “I need you to fuck me!”

Her eyes closed and she lost her words again as his thumb caressed the sweet swell of her clit, stroking her while her pussy wept with her need.

“Please… fuck me!  Hard… deep… please Gabriel, please… Please!” she was sobbing as her hips squirmed, trying to press into his touch, her desperation mounting.

Reaper couldn’t deny her anymore.  Lifting himself over her, he pressed the thick head of his shaft at her silky, weeping opening, and slowly slid into her.  Even as wet and ready as she was, Widowmaker moaned as she was filled with the thickness of him. It _almost_ hurt.  It made her breath hitch to a high note as inch by inch he filled her, relentlessly, thick and hard he parted her, split her open and invaded her tender, giving flesh with heat and hardness of his own.  

Amelie moaned as he made her ache with the fullness of him inside her.  The tightness of her around him constricted, her body greedy for his. He stilled, buried to the hilt in her, pressed past what she thought was her limit, she ached to take all of him into her, ached and wept for that incredibly full feeling of him inside her!

God she was tight!  Reaper had to stay still because once he started moving, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop.  Before he lost himself in the frenzy, and he wanted to savor the moment. Why hadn’t he done this before?  Widowmaker’s tightness, the sobbing sound of her breath as he buried himself inside her, so good. So very good!  His body was a hot, heavy weight on her naked flesh, she felt good under him, their bodies crushed together, his hands reaching to cup her rounded ass to pull her tight to him… He began moving in her.   _Fuuuuck_!  The feeling made his mind dissolve and thought was lost in the sensation.  His body began to piston, it’s only reason for existence was to let him rut her.  His flesh hot and hard in her, pounding!

 

***

 

Sombra could hear every sob and wail as Reaper took care of la Araña, and pouted.  Lucio was blinking his big brown eyes at her as he rubbed the circulation back into his wrists, his trousers neatly bound at his waist.  His sex hidden from view, tucked inside.

“There, don’t you feel better for not taking advantage of me?” he beamed at her and she glared back.

“No!”  she hadn’t given him back his weapon or skates, so she felt she had the upper hand if he decided to fight her.

“I’m so horny my clit hurts!  You should be grateful I saved you from Reaper, and give me some relief!”

“I’m sorry, Sombra, but I’m not going to have sex with you, even though you are very sexy.” Lucio spoke soothingly, letting the mello tones of his voice caress Sombra’s aural senses, “Thank you for letting me go.  Why don’t we go check on Reaper and Amelie?”

Sombra could feel the persuasion curl around her, silky like a spiderweb, delicate but strong.  This time however she remained firm.

“Are you loco?  Can’t you hear them?  They do NOT need to be checked on.  Not unless we are there to give extra verga or la chucha dulce!  Even then I would think Reaper would prefer we wait till he’s had enough alone time with our sweet blue assed team-mate.  Do you hear how she’s singing? She’s getting the good stuff!” Sombra was practically hopping in place in agitation.

“Calm, querida.” Lucio let his voice lilt, his sub sonics pulse out, “We’ll wait together.  Why don’t I sing you a song from my unreleased album? Wouldn’t you like a little VIP _preview_ , Sombra?”

Sombra gave Lucio a suspicious look, but felt her mouth go dry, and the hard driving pulse of her clit increase as Amelie’s desperate sobbing echoed through the cavern.  The sound of Widowmaker calling on god in her sexy French accent, to the driving rhythm of what Sombra just knew was Reaper’s cock… Which _Sombra_ had never had the good fortune to see, or Lucio’s either because the little tease had somehow talked her out of it!  At least the recorders she’d peppered the interrogation room would be saving it all for her wank bank later. The very least she’d come away with was some good material for her own self pleasure.   A sudden naughty thought went through Sombra’s mind, and a wicked smile twitched her lips.

“Okay, boy scout.  You can play for me, while I relieve a little of my tension.” Sombra purred, and began to wiggle out of her lower garments.

“Woah!  I thought we agreed that we wouldn’t be going there…” Lucio’s wide eye’d protests only made Sombra smirk harder.

“We aren’t going anywhere, hombre.  But if I can’t touch you, then I’ll have to touch myself.” Sombra made herself comfortable on the couch and spread her thighs, giving Lucio a front and center view of her well manicured, trim bush and the slick, shiny folds of her eager _coño_.

“Play for me Lucio, and I will play for you.  Don’t get any smart ideas about escaping though, because I have safeguards in place.  Let’s just say **_you_ ** won’t be so safe if you try any funny stuff.”

“Uhhhh…” Lucio was at a loss for words as he watched Sombra begin to stroke herself, letting out little pleased noises, and happy sounds.

Gulping, he started the music track of one of his unreleased songs, and let the sound sweep through the caverns.  

 

To be continued


End file.
